Without love we all like birds with broken wings.
There are no random acts.
Man wants to own his existence. But no one owns time.
Remember me for these days, not the old ones.
Dor: there is a reason God lmits our days. Victor: why? Dor: to make each one precious.
The length of your days does not belong to you.
Ends are for yesterday, not tomorrows.
But a desperate heart will seduce the mind.
The truth is, there is no line. There’s only your life, how you mess it up, and who is there to save you. Or who isn’t.
All who are born are always dying.
But common sense has no place in first love and never has.
Shouldn’t the world stop? Don’t they know what has happened to me?
The universe is too grand and harmonious to believe it’s all an accident.
But hurting ourselves to inflict pain on others is just another cry to be loved.
Lost love is still love.
Kids chase the love that eludes them, and for me, that was my father’s love. He kept it tucked away, like papers in a briefcase. And I kept trying to get in there.
It was sad, the imbalance of it all. Why do kids assume so much from one parent and hold the other to a lower, looser standard?
Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.
There are many things in my life that I wish I could take back. Many moments I would recast.
As children grow, they gravitate to their fates.