“You're too big for another heart beat, unable to sync with my capricious heart beating.”

“The white noise in his heart, the sum of all his colors —the metronome to which he beat [was she].”

“You are my heart, my head, my spine-you are the beat thumping through every line, and that’s why I write–it’s the only time we can be side by side.”

“…I felt each beat slowing as his breathe fell away from my world. “You’re going to be okay” I lied, as blood spilled painting my fingers crimson. He stared blankly gasping for breath. My fingers never worked the same after that day. They became wild, fierce---unruly. And heart? I don’t know where heart is; I think he still has her.”

“In my story you're the villain. But in my heart, you're still the reigning King.”

“...I know I’ve broken all the rules of all the games, that all the great players and best love calculators recommend that you play, if you want to make someone like you a lot. But that’s okay, because I give up. I’ve got my coffee sitting in my San Francisco cup, I’ve got Kona island and a working beating heart that’s not cold, hard, or numb—very workable and capable of loving, breaking, mending and repeating. So that’s just what I’ll do. Because I’m too tired. Too tired uping all nighting wasting my precious timing wishing it was your heart pumping, wanting me— like I used to want you.”

“I wear my heart on my blog.”