In a fit of anger he had said to her, 'You'll always be miserable,' to which she thoughtfully replied, 'Is that so? It's impossible to be miserable when you've known tragedy and hardship. Both strengthen and refine a person to the point where they may have moments of grief and sadness, but misery is known only to those who have a sense of entitlement...You know, people like you.

Life is a big fat gigantic stinking mess, that's the beauty of it, too.

Dear Matthew-There's one more thing I didn't get to tell you that night in my bedroom. Here it is: I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. This might seem like a strange thing for me to say given the fact we aren't speaking to each other. But I've decided that it's possible to love someone for entirely selfless reasons, for all of their flaws and weaknesses, and still not succeed in having them love you back. It's sad perhaps, but not tragic, unless you dwell forever in the pursuit of their elusive affections.

If not towards his case to give him glimpses of what could be a happy future, it stayed back at least to warrant her happiness, stayed back with the pain that strangely didn’t hurt anymore.

The kind of death you should mourn over is the one that happen when you abort your potentials prematurely! Life without purpose is a tragedy!

It’s almost funny, in a tragic way, that the fiery thing at the center of my universe did die and that I, a girl whose name is synonymous with summer, am expected to live without it.

For a moment she believed he had left, but as she shifted away from the wall she sensed him there beside the bed. He was very close. Wretched curiosity! But she would fight it and not look. “Katherine,” he whispered, his breath rolling in a warm wave across her cheek. A traitor tear spilled out, the humiliation was too much to contain. Gently, a finger dabbed the wetness from her skin. He said it again, softly, as though it pleased him just to say it, “Katherine.” “Viktor!” the accented voice bellowed from below. And then the shadow was gone. Darkness overwhelmed her then and carried her away to a land of crows and mocking strangers.

It was the cruelest of destiny’s tricks, the death of a young person.

What's rose? A tragic or romantic flower?

My heart is torn in tiny pieces scattered throughout the years. I exist in several places because you carry those pieces with you, wherever you go, whoever you choose to be, I’ll be beside you in one form or another.