“Your softness never goes to waste.”

When the world cries I cry. and when the world sings I still find myself crying.

I am not supportive not fond of nor proud of my self-abuse. I carry untold debt to my soul. It is the least I can do, to be gentle with it.

We only desperately try to save in others what we fear losing in ourselves.

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

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.

Tainted with lies, toxic fire dancing in your eyes. Kisses like poison arrows aiming for the heart killing me softly. Toxic love is an art.

I think just having smooth skin is so great because when you get your summer tan, you don’t have to do anything. It’s just soft and smooth.

Don’t be afraid to love all your broken pieces. They will finally wether with the waters of ages, shrinking into friendly gemlike pebbles that are soft to your soul.

If there be light, then there is darkness; if cold, heat; if height, depth; if solid, fluid; if hard, soft; if rough, smooth; if calm, tempest; if prosperity, adversity; if life, death.

A woman should soften but not weaken a man.

When you open up your heart, they call you soft, even though it’s the hardest thing to do.

The air soft as that of Seville in April, and so fragrant that it was delicious to breathe it.

Having a soft heart is a blessing, not a weakness.