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Quote by Amit Kalantri

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Wealth of Words

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Amit Kalantri

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“Memory, come tell a fairy tale About my girl who's lost and gone. Tell, tell about the golden grail And bid the swallow, bring her back to me. Fly close to her and ask her soft and low If she thinks of me sometimes with love, If she is well? Ask too before you go If I am still her dearest, precious dove. And hurry back, don't lose your way, So I can think of other things. But you were too lovely, perhaps, to stay. I loved you once. Good-bye, my love.”

“I was a wound, half-healed-over and scraped raw again. "Everybody Hurts" was running through my mind. I could see the consolation of it, the idea that your pain wasn't unique. Something about that made it seem both bigger and smaller. Smaller because all the world was aching. Bigger because I could finally admit that every other feeling I'd been focusing on had been a distraction from the deepest hurt. My father was gone. And I would always miss him.”