“The ocean fascinates me too. How it connects everything and everyone, but at the same time it divides us. Its a mystery, full of life and possibilities. Its justphenomenal.”

“The void inside me starts to fill, but my heart has holes, and whatever it holds will run out, leaving me empty once again.”

“Its all about that cosy, homey feeling, the one you leave behind when you travel across the world.”

“He might not be here, but the day he misses an opportunity to party is the day Jocelyn Wildenstein is considered the paragon of beauty.”

“I hate reading poemsschool made me hate them. Id spend hours interpreting one, just to read the memorandum and realize Id be fucked during exams. I remember making a little asterisk next to every q...”

“Ever since her diagnosis, shes been fading like a light bulb with cancers hand on the rotary dimmer.”

“There are two types of seeds in the mind: those that create anger, fear, frustration, jealousy, hatred and those that create love, compassion, equanimity and joy. Spirituality is germination and sp...”

“My music teacher offered twittering madrigals and something about how, in Italy, in Italy, the oranges hang on the tree. He treated me - the humiliation of it - as a soprano.These, by contrast, are...”

“If you spend your time hoping someone will suffer the consequences for what they did to your heart, then you're allowing them to hurt you a second time in your mind.”

“No. Hes like me at the moment. Were both nomadic. Hes still in the military. Currently training SEALs in Coronado, California. Im sorry, training seals? To do what? Boomer grinned. He didnt underst...”

“The sound was like a gentle breeze of joy on a warm summer day. It wrapped around his senses and his heart. That was the moment, and he knew hed be telling her about it fifty years from now when sh...”

“For the space of half a year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it.”

“I don't know what I'm playing at. I feel so romantic and furious all the time.”

“Such indeed was her image, that neither could Shakespeare describe, nor Hogarth paint, nor Clive act, a fury in higher perfection.”

“Such indeed was her image, that neither could Shakespeare describe, nor Hogarth paint, nor Clive act, a fury in higher perfection.”