“ Grief is like a drunken house guest, always coming back for one more goodbye hug. ”
Calling it a simple schoolgirl crush was like saying a Rolls-Royce was a vehicle with four wheels, something like a hay-wagon. She did not giggle wildly and blush when she saw him, nor did she chalk his name on trees or write it on the walls of the Kissing Bridge. She simply lived with his face in her heart all the time, a kind of sweet, hurtful ache. She would have died for him..
~ Stephen King
For men, I think, love is a thing formed of equal parts lust and astonishment. The astonishment part women understand. The lust part they only think they understand.
If it's ka it'll come like a wind, and your plans will stand before it no more than a barn before a cyclone
Get busy living or get busy dying.
