Before we belonged to anyone else, we were each other's.

First love, with its frantic haughty imagination, swings its object clear of the everyday, over the rut of living, making him all looks, silences, gestures, attitudes, a burning phrase with no context

I swam in deep water, met death in the sea, made it to dangerous grounds on the belly of the beast, call it a beautiful Struggle but is worth it?

What is it one yearns for? It is to be able to do a thing for the first time again. And that is impossible.

your Beautiful and Don't Thank Me Thank God He Created You!!!

From Your Lips To your Lipps