To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

One's suffering, one's melancholy is, in itself, really only looked upon as failure or as punishment, as detestable or sinful or socially unacceptable in the eyes of man; but this is not so in the eyes of God: for He is close to the broken-hearted.

A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains.

Love built on pain-the kind that lasts: whatever you love can be taken away from us at any moment but the loss of what we love belongs to us forever.

I won't be stuck in traffic 'til I see how rugged my path is
And right now I'm loving how fast my troubles are fasting

No they don't bother me oh realizing I'm psychopathic
A wild beast, baby I'm gladly running after
Yes a thing called peace outlasting any madness

The devil fears me oh he's feeling
Like a fragment of a fraction
No he won't come near me
'Cause his hat trick's out of practice

I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don't normally get to go.