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Quote by Mahzabin Mahi

“If I told you I loved you back then and if you found out that I was dying at the same time, would've you been able to take the pain ?”

Quote by Mahzabin Mahi

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Mahzabin Mahi

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“Tonight my heart weeps on behalf of my eyes a reluctant delegation of tears like condensation on a window on the verge of falling Tonight I am a ruin a castle made of sand The tide has come to reclaim me I am a mirage in a ghost's memory already gone if I was ever here Tonight I am the blood of the rose squeezed and pressed in a child's hand I am the moon without the sun My light is dimming and the moths have taken up residence in my stomach where the butterflies once lived It is dark and they are hungry Tomorrow I will keep planting flowers in my soul Winter will pass They will bloom and the butterflies will return”

“Lotte wanted Francoise to stay the night, but she wouldn’t. Francoise thought of movies, usually thrillers, in which the hero gets out of bed during the night, dresses and slips out, leaving a beautiful woman asleep and unaware. Francoise wished she could leave like that, but her film was a realistic one. As she walked back to her apartment she thought that getting out of the relationship had been as awkward and messy as Lotte’s pulling her finger out of Francoise’s ass.”

“Driving 'round thought I saw you pass me My rearview mirror's playing tricks on me Cause you fade away Maybe I'm just hallucinating Cause my loneliness got the best of me And my heart's so weak Every day I want to pick up the phone And tell you that You're everything I need and more If only I could find you Like a cold Summer afternoon Like the snow coming down in June Like a wedding without a groom I'm missing you I'm the desert without the sand I'm the one without a band I'm a ring without a hand I'm missing you”

“LONG YEARNING Long yearning, To be in Chang'an. The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well; Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold. My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts; I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain. The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds. Above is the black night of heaven's height; Below is the green water billowing on. The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit; The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard. Long yearning, Breaks my heart.”

“Yesterday I walked to Clerkenwell in the morning and stood by the iron grate where the Fleet flows, and listened, and imagined I heard the waters of all the rivers I have known - the head of the Fleet at Hampstead where I played when I was young, and the wide Thames, and the Blackwater, with its secrets that were hardly worth keeping. Then it carried me in spate to the Essex shore, to all the marsh and the shingle, and I tasted on my lips the salt air which is also like the flesh of oysters, and I felt my heart cleaving, as I felt it there in the dark wood on the green stair and as I feel it now: something severed, something joined. The sun on my back through the window is warm and I hear a chaffinch singing. I am torn and I am mended - I want everything and need nothing - I love you and I am content without you.”