The TypeEveryone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else. -Richard SikenIf you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,you can let them look at you. But do not mistake eyes for han...
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.This is how I dance away.This is how I'm gone before you wake.
It does not matter how strong your gravity is, we were always meant to fly.
Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.
But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both
Whenever I hurt myself, my mother saysit is the universe’s way of telling me toslow down. She also tells me to put somecoconut oil on it. It doesn’t matter what itis. She often hides stones underneath...
When I hear other people's stories, I like to believe that they contribute to my 'Encyclopedia of Human Experience.' The stories I hear help me expand my definition of what love is, what pain feels li...
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.
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...
You can only fit so many words into 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.
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.
Fingers interlocked like a beautiful accordion of flesh or a zipper of prayer
Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night
Hands learn. More than minds do.
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.
Her dress is the colour of marmalade, she chirps songs that have no words
I didn't tell him that even after a crash, a key still fits the ignition. There just isn't anything left to drive.
I love youas much as the oceankisses the shore
I promise to tidy up before company arrives, wouldn't want my socks and daydreams all over the carpet
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