You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you; I wished for your existence. You will always be a part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we shared, at some moment, the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage.

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Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.

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I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.

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Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.

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You cannot save people. You can only love them.

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My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.

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We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.

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We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.

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willingness to explore everything is a sign of strength. The weak ones have prejudices. Prejudices are a protection.

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Don't let one cloud obliterate the whole sky.

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