Best 11 quotes of Tom Grasso on MyQuotes

A man who loves her must be fierce. Not against the outside world, but against the beasts within him. Only a man who can defeat those is worthy of her heart.

Before I met you, I knew you. Before I knew you, I felt you. But love you? There was no time before I loved you.

He prayed for the day when he'd become her North Star, a trusted and true destination she longed for. He would then be awakened in the night and she would be there, not as an aberration but as safe a port as he had ever known and one he would never want to leave. He, in turn, would light her sky with a love she had never known, and would never need search for again.

He walked the beach the same as before, a single set of footprints praying for the Sun to rise. The whispering Ocean assured him it would all come, a promise to rise and wipe the memories away.

If I have a final word in this life, Let it be of my love for you. If I have but one last deed, Let it be one of my pure devotion to you. If I have but one last breath, Let it be used to say your name.

I've often wondered, 'Who am I to disturb the natural order of things?' Then God reminded me that I am a part of the natural order of things. When I am true to my heart, true to myself, I am part of Her ebb and flow. I am part of Her great Sea.

I wish to find you where the sky meets the ocean's edge. I wish to paint sunlight on your skin and whisper the song of a lightly-breaking wave into your soul. I wish to bathe in your essence and, when the Sun finally sets, lay nestled in your arms needing nothing but your heat beating in my year and the certainty of your hand on my chest.

My eyes suddenly open, and I wonder if you're awake too. I wonder if you're thinking the same thoughts, hoping the same hopes, wandering in the same spaces. My heart utters its simple, familiar prayer and suddenly the echoes in this room become too much to bear.

Sometimes I get lost in the familiar silence of aloneness. I hear the nothingness of my breath playing in the rough spaces of my memory, a wanting tale from an artist holding a longing brush against a canvas not always his own. There, the dream revived, I say her name - a prayer that echoes eternally in my chamber.

That fire in your heart Growing into an inferno? Set it free Consume me Leave nothing of me that the wind can't scatter.

The grip of emotion Ebbs and flows like an ocean tide, My head nestled In prayer Upon your breast, It is the way.