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“I was mistaken
when I said you
live in my heart.
How absurd I was
when you live in my
fingertips so that everything
I touch is you. How foolish
I was when you live in my toes
so that everywhere I go there's you.
How senseless of me to say
you live in my heart
when you breathe in my lungs,
walk on my mind, and
drink in my mouth. I came to
pen another poem for you,
but even every unwritten poem
is you.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“when you spend
all your time
imagining yourself
in other people's shoes,

your own story
goes unwritten,

& there is nothing
more painful
than that.”
― Amanda Lovelace, Break Your Glass Slippers

“Reflections...passages in time..sometimes, the only things that make sense..the only peace I find..is found somewhere, unwritten..in between the lines.”
― Victoria June

“In this delicate and unpredictable life, the future is unwritten. Do not take someone for granted today, for once tomorrow dawns upon the indigo night the only remaining trace will be tracks in the sand...”
― Virginia Alison

“I came to
pen another poem for you,
but even every unwritten poem
is you.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“For the dead are always close by in a life like Mahony's. The dead are drawn to the confused and the unwritten, the damaged and the fractured, to those with big cracks and gaps in their tales, which the dead just yearn to fill. For the dead have secondhand stories to share with you, if you'd only let them get a foot in the door.”
― Jess Kidd, Himself

“Eye reads what is unwritten.”
― Kishore Bansal

“This is just your unwritten life. You didn’t expect it, it just happened.”
― Amy Shannon, Unwritten Life

“This poem was meant
to be unwritten.
But I am writing it now
and have thereby changed
destiny.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“I believe that life is written out for you, it maps out your life to make you happy, but what I’ve been living for the past four years is my unwritten life...”
― Amy Shannon, Unwritten Life

“Who, in examining a grain of wheat, could infer intrinsically from it what it will be? And they say now (whoever 'they' are) that even a grain of sand contains the coding from which the whole universe, if it blew up, could be reconstructed, and maybe better." (Which is the plot of my next book after the SCANNER one I described to you on the phone: a girl, crossing a national frontier, is detained by suspicious police; she is "pregnant," but what she contains in her womb is not organic but is in fact the "electronic, technological" seed of the entire future world, which, without her knowing it, is to be blown apart; she is a simple girl, my Kathy again, who genuinely imagines herself to be pregnant, and being Catholic, must bear the "child." And that "child"—can you imagine it? Not the universe, with stars and planets, but the new and better society, of Freedom which the enslavers have tried, and thought to have successfully wiped out, to obliterate. And there it is, in microsize, in her womb, as she placidly waits to be allowed to leave the "U.S.," it could be any "Rome," to enter a small nation. On, as she thinks of it, a Party-time trip.”
― Philip K. Dick, The Selected Letters, 1974