Sometimes it feels like even ifEvery inch of my skin was touching yoursI still wouldn’t be close enough to you.

Under a night’s skyFilled with a hundred billion starsIs it so crazy to believeOur paths were destined to cross?

What a cruel irony it is, that we get to choose our thoughts but not our feelings.

You are my drug of choiceI know you’re no good for meAnd though I swear my lipsWill never touch you againHere we are, here we are.

Love gives the best of highsBut also the worst of hangovers.

As joy dwindles with the yearsI wistfully recallWhen the christmas treeLooked ten feet tallAnd the presents under itSeemed endless And more Than mere wrapping paper.

Fate is the cruelest of masters, takingLife when it pleases or at random, handingRigged decks to whom it pleases, cheatingAll alike and none the wiser, takingEverything away from those with nothing.

I wish I could see butterflies burst from cocoonsWithout tempering my amazementKnowing all beauty eventually dies.

As artists, we create the beautyWe are too afraid to live outAnd search, but always fall just shyOf finding what life is about.

Question marks are met with periodsBy people full of arroganceThey have every answer, nothing mysteriousAnd yet they have no evidence.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want youI'd be lying if I said I didn't wish you were mineThe truth is, you stole my heart from afarThe truth is, you still have it.

Are all men's lips as soft as yours, Ari?" Bathymaas"I suppose, goddess. But I don't make it a habit to feel the lips of other men so I don't know for certain." Aricles

Comedy born of bewilderment is the only comedy that should be in magic.

I'm not a trust-fund type.

Twentieth-century American poetry has been one of the glories of modern literature.

Will you be my shoulder when I'm gray and older? Promise me tomorrow starts with you. Getting high, running wild among the stars above. Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me.

Here Lies Julius Schwartz. He met his last deadline.

History is replete with instances of men, who, by dying with courage and compassion on their lips converted the hearts of their violent opponents.

Ocean people are very different from land people. The ocean never stops saying and asking into ears, which don't sleep like eyes.

A man with a warm heart is no different than a warm house in the middle of a bitter winter!

One thing we forget about Hispanics is that they're family-unit-oriented as a culture. So it's not all wild Mexican gangs out there, as is rumored.