How I miss wandering around with old souls, Aimlessly moving from one place to anotherHow I miss all our dreams and our goalsAnd how we've lost ourselves to find each otherSeems like a playful game of...
She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind.
I'm not young. I've never had any youth.
I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul, and I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been kee...
Old soul. I laughed. You're Thirty.It's not the years, it's the experience, he paused.
I'm not reinventing myself. I'm finding myself. There's a difference!
We all have a god and a poet inside us. The poet, the human; the god, the divine.It is by the grace of our god that we can find the divine inspiration with which to wax poetic about our human experien...
He wanted to be a universal man . . . and I suppose that isn't possible now. He belongs in fifteenth-century Italy. This age doesn't suit him.