It's been 12 years now, and I think he still can read my smiles. The way my lips stretch, making my eyes look smaller than they already are. The way my cheeks turn a little red, forming new wrinkles near my eyes. The way the dimple on my face makes a visit whenever I smile meeting someone I haven't seen in ages. It's been 12 years now, and I haven't smiled at him even once.

You don't get time. You create time.

And maybe life isn't as hard as it seems to be Every day could be a mess , but darling, you see One of the few places you will always find peace Owes its breeze to the constant chaos in the sea ...

You could wish for brighter moonlit skies But from a fair distance, they all look pretty much like mere streetlights.

I think one can tell a lot about a person from the way he chooses to let the stub of his cigarette burn out...