Like pretty'what would it be like if i thought i was prettywhat would it be like if i carriedthat knowledge aroundlike i do the knowledge that i am a writerpretty like peonies pretty like satin pretty...
No matter how bad things get, you can always see the beauty in them. The worse things get, the more you have to make yourself see the magic in order to survive.
Love, that elusive leading lady, plays too many parts to be typecast.
Maybe I'm afraid of the sword not because I think I might fail to defend us but because I'm not so certain I won't give up and turn it on myself.
When Cherokee and Raphael got back to the canyon house, they set up the tepee on the grass and crept inside it. They lay on their backs, not touching, looking at the leaf shadows flickering on their c...
Maybe one night I’ll be asleep and I’ll feel a hand like a dove on my cheekbone and feel her breath cool like peppermints and when I open my eyes my mom will be there like an angle, saying in the soft...
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...
A kiss about apple pie à 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 speeding by, trailing...
Welcome Beauty, banish fear.
Under the twinkling trees was a table covered with Guatemalan fabric, roses in juice jars, wax rose candles from Tijuana and plates of food — Weetzie's Vegetable Love-Rice, My Secret Agent Lover Man's...
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...
Hopefully, when you are young, you discover something called love, which is really just another name for going home.
Believe him when he tells you you are beautifulit will only hurt you both not to(it is true besides)
I dreamed of being a part of the stories—even terrifying one, even horror stories—because at least the girls in stories were alive before they died.
The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leathery covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in yo...
I stand here waiting. To disappear or sing.
You asked me who I thought I was before. I said maybe I was a fish because I love water and you said, you thought a mermaid, maybe.If you were a mermaid, you said, if you were a mermaid, I was the sea...
I used to hate how afraid my mom was and how afraid she had made me. Now I understand but I can no longer be like her.
If you were a mermaid, you said, If you were a mermaid, I was the sea.
Love is a dangerous angel.
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