Heaven is where the police are British the chefs Italian the mechanics German the lovers French and it is all organized by the Swiss
I think hell is something you carry around with you not somewhere you go
Someone once told me the definition of hell the last day you have on earth the person you become will meet the person you could have become
There's no speed limit on the highway to hell
Let someone love you just the way you are as flawed as you might be as unattractive as you sometimes feel and as unaccomplished as you think you are
Trust is like a paper once it's crumpled it can't be perfect again you can flatten the paper and try and make it as straight as you want but it will never be perfect again
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