“People are good. No matter what. Beneath the rage and fear lies a wounded heart. We must do what we can do to heal it.”

We parted sadly, like children in the street on a pleasant june afternoon.

I ache and long and feel in a language older than ours; one without words or phrases, consisting only of melancholy.

Every word I write is crude and weak when it comes to conveying you how much I appreciate you.

We are all marks of condensation on polished glass; steadily fading away.

The only person you’ll spend your entire life with is yourself. You should be your first focus.

Branches bow, longing to reach the crisp, punctured leaves, their old shedded skin.

Make the choice; to be comfortable or to be alive.

The flowers burn the grass, a thousand splendid suns; and life returns to everything as hope refills my lungs.

You’re an ocean that I can’t navigate. If storms wrack your surface, I dread to think what horrors lie in your depths.

The deepest relationships belong to the friends who were one lovers, and the lovers who were once friends.

The sun has one lesson for us: learn to see the light on a rainy day.

You are an ocean. I know your colors and the sound of your waves, but I’ll never see beneath your surface.

No matter what you’re told, there is honesty in passion and truth in messiness.

Do we only love the things we lose?

Stand up straight and face the world; love its best, accept its worst.

We rebuild. We always rebuild. You can’t do the same, if you’re not fulfilled.

When times are tough and people are frustrated and angry and hurting and uncertain, the politics of constant conflict may be good. But what is good politics does not necessarily work in the real world. What works in the real world is cooperation.

When I lose my temper, honey, you can’t find it any place.

Ah me! we wound where we never intended to strike; we create anger where we never meant harm; and these thoughts are the thorns in our cushion.

Patience is a conquering virtue. The learned say that, if it not desert you, It vanquishes what force can never reach; Why answer back at every angry speech? No, learn forbearance or, I’ll tell you what, You will be taught it, whether you will or not.

Fly from wrath; sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war; a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.

Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.

Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.

I installed a skylight in my apartment, the people who live above me are furious!