“An aphrodisiac will disappear,delusional, like permanence or wealth - a shimmering, as if love were a ghost -and yet my passion for you seethes and searswithout an end. Late April leaves can’t cravecaress of dew, sunlight’s sweet splash, more thanI pine for your embrace, us turned to one;when harsh reversals scar, the thought of you will salvelike summer wind in autumn; deep red bloodsurging along with mine, staid genes worked hotfrom your electric charms, as all my moodssuccumb to your sweet fire, and perfect wit.Now you are all I live for - loving you -in fleeting world of lies, you are the truth.”

“A hundred years or more, she's bent her crownin storm, in sun, in moonsplashed midnight breeze.surviving all the random vagariesof this harsh world. A dense - twigged veil drifts downfrom crown along her trunk - mourning slow woodthat rustles tattered, in a hint of windthis January dusk, cloudy, purplingthe ground with sudden shadows. How she broods -you speculate - on dark surprise and loss,alone these many years, despondent, bent,her bolt-cracked mate transformed to splinters, moss.Though not alone, you feel the sadness of atwilight breeze. There's never enough love;the widow nods to you. Her branches moan.”

“My heart is drumming in my chest so hard it aches, but it's the good kind of ache, like the feeling you get on the first real day of autumn, when the air is crisp and the leaves are all flaring at the edges and the wind smells just vaguely of smoke - like the end and the beginning of something all at once.”

“We feel encouraged to go further with our instincts, not to change ourselves for love. If I were yours and you were mine, I would want you to be exactly as you are. I would never eclipse you with my desires.”

“Because the truth is, I wouldn’t care if she lied to me, except for the fact that I love her. And once you love someone, you can’t really put up with them lying to you. It just doesn’t work. It makes things into a big mess.”

“I liked just being with you. I liked the way you breathed when you were asleep. I liked when you took the champagne glass from my hand. I liked how your fingers were always too long for your gloves.”

“My sweet strawberry, Your frowning eyebrows, almond eyes, pomegranate lips and cherry nail fingers Does not make me love you limitless Nor your sweet smiles, lovely jokes, and charming glances It is you; that makes smile sweet, glances lovely and eyes gorgeousOver and over again I see thousands everyday smiling and frowning; But they all seem tasteless It is you, as always the most perfect and uniqueStrawberry!!!”