Some people read palms to tell your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory.
Maybe Love stays. Maybe Love can’t. Maybe Love shouldn’t.Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to and Love leaves exactly when Love must.When Love arrives, say, Welcome. Make yourself comfortable...
My world was the size of a crayon box, and it took every colour to draw her
I promise to tidy up before company arrives, wouldn't want my socks and daydreams all over the carpet
I didn't tell him that even after a crash, a key still fits the ignition. There just isn't anything left to drive.
Life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like...
We build model ships in bottles, whispering life into the toothpicks and wire; we make plans and blueprints for the one we hope is coming. And come they do. Fleets of vessels. Battleships and barges....
He will never marry her, the translator tells me, after we have been driving in the dark for a few minutes. Yes, I say, but he can love her.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar: it can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
And I know we live in different worlds, and we're always really busy, but in my dreams you spin around me so fast, I always wake up dizzy.So maybe one day you'll grow tired of the road and roll on bac...
You can only fit so many words in a postcard, only so many in a phone call, only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.
This is how I disappear in pieces.This is how I leave while not moving from my seat.
If I should have a daughter…Instead of Mom, she’s gonna call me Point B. Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the...
How strange, that when you are away, I reach for my cell phone's buzz as if it were your hand. Each shiver in my pocket, a way to find you.
And I'm going to pain the solar systems on the backs of her hands, so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.
I will love you with too many commas, but never any asterisks.
Such a little thing really, a kiss... most people don't give it a moment's consideration. They kiss on meeting, they kiss on parting, that simple touching of flesh is taken entirely for granted as a b...
Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes permanent. Repeat the same mistakes over and over, and you don't get any closer to Carnegie Hall.
And know this:Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.Let the statues crumble.You have always been the place.
Some nights, I wake up knowing he is anxious. He is across the world in another woman's arms and the years have spread us like dandelion seeds, sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to...