Attributed No Source Quotes - Page 3

Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.

Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.

Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world.

(When asked what he thought of Western civilization): 'I think it would be a good idea.

Love is when unknowingly I am moving to a world of no return, Where my desire and your fragrance together burnall your thoughts in canvas of my mind and soulturns in to a masterpiece as my life's aim and goal looks I am taken over and over away by you showering in me as a rain of you and only you

The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.

Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.

She speaks in heartbeats and the rises of her chest, words forever seared in thoughts that will never rest.

You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.

She was small. Her shadow moved in the dance of chaos before her as the inferno blazed behind her and licked the sky with its many tongues. She clutched an indistinguishable toy with both arms tightly. Her face was serene. Her eyes shone with courage more immense than the surrounding flames. She was small, but at that moment, I've never seen a bigger person.

Woven words are little conviction when I present myself as a man of fiction.

He gave up. No hint of ember behind his eyes nor life in his breath. He snipped the last, overstretched strand of hope, and nicked the strand of life by mistake. He did it with his hands.

She was exactly right and wrong in the perfect sort of way. This kiss would be the first of many, she was the type of girl I would desperately fight for to stay.

No level raised without reading, is like a body trying to live without breathing.

Music in the soul can be heard by the universe.

I always deemed myself a one chance person, if you hurt me or betray me, then I'm done with you. As I grew older and the scars of wisdom imprinted on my soul and chest, I realized a second chance took a monumental amount of strength and some people deserve a chance to right their wrongs. Now, I would gladly allow another the opportunity to cauterize their wounds at the risk of ripping open my tight-knit scars. I would bleed for you and feel alive rather than watch with cold eyes as you decay.

That last bit of hope always lingered as a stubborn thread. Every time I would try to cut it I would feel it... a pulse. My pulse. My blood is hope.

If I tear the sun from the sky and bring all the stars cascading down, would that line of your lips curve to a smile or a frown? With my hands burnt to a crisp and prosthetics in their place, would you hold me close and allow comfort in your embrace? If I fashioned a band from that sun and those stars, would you kiss these lines on my flesh? These irrevocable scars? I've fashioned for you this band of infinite light! Yet upon your finger it is not nearly so bright... You are my stars, sun and light. You are blazing fire in hopeless night. You are a reflection of perfection if my soul stood a mirror. Your affection is my infection, if only you could be nearer. You stand as a darling of your race, while I lay as an emotion with a face. What I sought and seek is not easily found, Yet from your lips escapes the perfect sound. My name and yours, yours and mine, Not even softest silk could be so fine. And yet, I see you standing there, Indecisive and fiddling with your hair. Your eyes are downward cast and your tears and my tears flow, What I would do to see them glow…and for you to know.

I was the wings that kept her aloft, while the churning sea of reality nipped at her feet. I kept her from drowning, but I still felt bad, that her toes had to experience such dreadful cold.

I was lost in the moments I decided to keep. To be awake in a dreamless sleep. And in that place between dream and sleep, I planted some more things I would like to keep.

Just being around her made me feel better. She had an amber shade aura to her that filled any cracks and brokenness I hadn't yet fixed. I could be myself around her, knowing full well she held on as I let go.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.

Though I exist in the realms of day and night, I'm only truly alive in the moments between.

Tell me a story. Be my storyteller.

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

Happiness is that which occurs when you know what sadness is, and that you possess neither it nor the attributes of it. So is sadness, that you know what happiness is, and that you possess neither happiness nor its attributes.

Woven words are little conviction when I present myself as a man of fiction. And you a woman of lies and deceit, stumbling forward on two left feet. You are an exquisite figurine of an incomprehensible place, While I, a soldier of my cause, my race. A single sip of you would satiate thirst, hunger and empty. Yet, you stand unmoved, comfortable knowing you could stave desires plenty. To my heart, you are known as 'shatter.' Between saint and sin, you are the latter. End, not even my finest words will matter. The still, the silence, even then, you are famine to my soul. My chest lacks certain weight now; I simply wish to be whole. Now, I stand before you broken, humbled and so bare, Only to see your infinite eyes brimming with no care. Your heart is a cauldron that burns darkest fuel. And I a remnant of smog, the overly-bitter fool. The man of fiction stumbles forward on two left feet, The woman of lies weaves words of conviction and deceit.

For your love I have uprooted all my desires, I am no more demanding...

And they danced with laughter and tears. They swung each other round and round, the first and last time in years.