When I read the ghastly lines of tragedy darkly penned into my life, I turn and notice that the pen in my hand is wet.
When the rush of the weak sweeps over those that strive to be strong, its destruction. The commonplaces of moral judgment become fogged with the lack of perception stained with the sting of longing. T...
Oversharing? Not vulnerability; I call it floodlighting. ... A lot of times we share too much information as a way to protect us from vulnerability, and here's why. I'm scared to let you know that I j...
We live what we create. We create what we live.
Dare to believe in the reality of your assumptionand watch the world play its partrelative to to its fulfillment.
If you expect the battle to be insurmountable, you've met the enemy.It's you.
As your lover describes you, so you are.
Pessimism becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; it reproduces itself by crippling our willingness to act.