“I’m not sure if you know this but your peace is not up for debate.”

Your softness never goes to waste.

The truth is, I have always felt a little off-balance. Maybe each part of me exists in a  separate world.

I am enough. I am more than enough. I am plenty. Through and through. As I am.

The more I grow the more tender I become.

I am a safe space for myself.

There is a certain peace in privacy.

There is power in my peace and it is loud without sound.

If you ever forget your worth just ask me. I’ll remind you.

I gave my sadness a full name so that I stop thinking of her as an intruder and start acknowledging that I do have to learn how to live with her.

I will tell you one thing, though: I grew like hell from it.

Nothing comes easy for me but that makes me love it more.

The universe hears what you say, but it knows what you mean.

I can finally cry and let it be relief. My tears can be my medicine and not my poison.

I take great comfort in knowing that there are even better versions of myself I haven’t hugged yet.

Can we be easy on ourselves for once?

To cry means that you are feeling as much as you possibly can in that moment and that is exactly what I mean when I say you are alive.

People’s minds are changed through observation and not through argument.

Love doesn’t seek to win the argument. It seeks to protect the relationship.

No references to the need to fight terror can be an argument for restricting human rights.

It is a predisposition of human nature to consider an unpleasant idea untrue, and then it is easy to find arguments against it.

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed.

Empty is the argument of the philosopher which does not relieve any human suffering.

Humanity is in the highest degree irrational, so that there is no prospect of influencing it by reasonable arguments. Against prejudice one can do nothing.

Extrapolations are the last refuge of a groundless argument.