“With every breath we can end it all, The gift of life is not for all, But our long bloodless crawl, Like kings without a quest, The real romance is in this feeling of death…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“For a grownup like me, To learn from her, What it takes to love, It comes naturally to her…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“I am scared to look inside me, Except me everyone else is in here, And they said education was the cure, Now of not even one thing that I am sure…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“If your photographs can make me shiver, Even In the warmth of a burning wax. If just a simple glance from you, Can destroy the difference between, Night and day and the time in between, And I even fear to look into those beautiful brown eyes, Are those eyes doors to another realm?”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“I want no fate other than what is written by her, For I believe in her providence. And even if my heart is meant to be broken, I want her to do that honour, For I pray to her to grant me a warm ending…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“Feel the bewitchment of silence, Stop the negotiations within, Give up the armistice with failure, When everything is lost which was meant to be, And now all that remains is you…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“Let her flower gracefully, No matter which garden she chooses to be in, No matter which season it is, No matter who the gardener is, Let there be admirers and lovers at her doorsteps, Let there be worshipers at her feet, Let there be love and let her be loved…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“His eyes were on his heart, completely caught up in his work. 'Just something kicking around in my head. Reminds me of you. Fiery and sweet, all at the same time. A flame in the dark, lighting my way.' His voice... his words... I recognized one of his spirit-driven moments. It should've unnerved me, but there was something sensual about the way he spoke, something that made my breath catch. A flame in the dark.”
Source: The Indigo Spell
“If not my own fantasy then, Whose imagination am I? Not a day goes by wondering, Where exactly am I? Inside my head or inside your eye…”
Source: Narcissistic Romanticism
“Go call him back,” pleaded Joe. “He will stay for your sake.”
She whispered: “I would rather call back the wild geese who flew across the moon. And they are only beautiful when they are wild!”
“But you’ve lost him, Kate, don’t you understand?”
“The wild geese fly north again in spring,” said Buck, “and he’ll—”
“Hush!” she said. “Listen!”
Far off, above the rushing of the wind, they heard the weird whistling, a thrilling and unearthly music. It was sad with the beauty of the night. It was joyous with the exultation of the wind. It might have been the voice of some god who rode the northern storm south, south after the wild geese, south with the untamed.”
Source: The Untamed