Ah, Macy Joleen O'James, I love you. More than I ever knew it was possible to love someone. I want to laugh with you when you're happy and hold you when you're sad and--hell. I don't even know what all. This is uncharted territory for me, but I know that I Buzz Lightyear love you. You know--to infinity and beyond?

The Universe is very, very big.It also loves a paradox. For example, it has some extremely strict rules.Rule number one: Nothing lasts forever.Not you or your family or your house or your planet or the sun. It is an absolute rule. Therefore when someone says that their love will never die, it means that their love is not real, for everything that is real dies. Rule number two: Everything lasts forever.

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.

Adventures kept hidden, words kept silent. You became my greatest secret. And when you left, no one knew the source of the pain I felt. No one knew you existed, except my writhing heart.

There is a concept which corrupts and upsets all others.I refer not to Evil, whose limited realm is that of ethics; I refer to the infinite.

I was burdened with an ever-growing heart on the verge of decay. To save myself, I had to give many pieces of my love away. I hope I can give it all to someone, someday.

She was poetry written in pen, scribbled and scrawled again and again. Ink splattered across the page. And within those scratched words, those small, sharp incisions, an image can be seen and you're left to wonder what, in the end, this all could mean.

I think I feel it The nimble, fleeting emotion That novels and authors desperately Try to convey in ink and heart blood Whose shadow festers in the loins Of teenagers and their insatiability The hidden thing none of us can see Yet we all disagree what it looks like If only it were love... Simple, infinite love But this was more, this was bloodshot madness.

Hmm. I think love is about loving all things, to treat each and every thing and every one as a sovereign being that’s free to make its own choices.

The principle of the Gothic architecture is infinity made imaginable.