He said that black sheeps express everyone else's anger and pain. It's not that they have all the anger and pain-they're just the only ones who let it out. Then the other people don't have to.
Writing was my religion, my foremost purpose in life, my consolation. But as the years passed and I didn’t have the successes that others deemed the qualifications of a real writer, I went into hiding...
War is being reminded that you are completely at the mercy of death at every moment, without the illusion that you are not. Without the distractions that make life worth living.
L.A. kills people.' Jacaranda said. 'You're lucky you're leaving. You'll be able to write.'She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the colo...
I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.
He kissed her. A kiss about apple pie a la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. A kiss about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. A kiss about palm trees speedin...
But death is stronger than that and when you cover your eyes you are the one who can't see the dark. The dark still sees you.
Like prettywhat would it be like if i thought i was prettywhat would it be like if i carried that knowledge aroundlike i do the knowledge that i am a writerpretty like peonies pretty like satin pretty...
He smells like night-blooming flowersCrushed, juicy petals on the pillowsHis voice is full of oceanHumming like the surfHe kneels before me like I am his goddessHe is a god
Writing is very cathartic for me. As a teacher, I hear many students say that writing can be painful and exhausting. It can be, but ultimately I believe that if you push through, the process is healin...
What would it be like if i thought i was prettywhat would it be like if i carried that knowledge aroundlike i do the knowledge that i am a writerpretty like peonies pretty like satin pretty like the c...
Believe him when he tells you you are beautifulit will only hurt you both not to(it is true besides)
Witch Baby wanted to ask Ping how to find her Jah-Love angel. She knew Raphael was not him, even though Raphael had the right eyes and smile and name. She knew how he looked--the angel in her dream--b...
Think about the word destroy. Do you know what it is? De-story. Destroy. Destory. You see. And restore. That's re-story. Do you know that only two things have been proven to help survivors of the Holo...
The homes of so many skeletons. People who used to fight over the last blueberry muffin at the breakfast table, get down on their knees to scrub bathroom floors, and kiss one another good night, think...
So Witch Baby played. Tossing her head, sucking in her cheeks and popping up with the impact of each beat. Thrusting her whole body into the music and thrusting the music into the air around her. She...
My mind is like the valley—this vast barren waste. Car lots. Malls. Tract homes. I know there are other worlds beyond it—of canyons full of coyote and monarch butterflies, squirrels, bunnies, purple a...
Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And nobody to munch on it with
It’s hard to remember what you fall in love with. Usually it is an expression in the eyes, an exchange, or a gesture or the sound of a voice, a word spoken. Those things can get blended with the atmos...
I'll be inside the one who holds you. And then I won't be.