You made a poet fall in love with the world.

And the golden rays of your love made me warm on cold, wintry nights.

I want to read you every night. I want to take you to bed with me : your words, your thoughts, your mind, your body and your soul.

Philosophy starts when we question ourselves and search for meaning in our lives.

And on cold wintry nights she loves listening to Elvis croon 'Are you lonesome tonight?' just as I do.

And finally we get addicted to our sadness.