“Old soul, Poet’s heart, Warrior’s mind.”

You’ll never be able to silence the woman who was born to write.

Be with someone who willingly runs in the storm with you, not someone who cowers away because of turbulent winds.

I would rather be free and lost than caged and found.

In love with September’s sun the season that begins all witchy things and stirs the soul.

It’s her black wings that make her beautiful.

I was born to chase peace and love wild things. I was born a beautiful bohemian paradox.

The world needs more fierce warriors who are soft and kind.

He is the sun melting the snow in my heart.

I know a beautiful soul when I feel one. The empath in me honors the authentic in you.

Once our souls collided and caught fire, there was no turning back.

She was the night, in love with the stars, always chasing the moon.

Words alone mean little. Show me your eyes; that’s where I’ll decipher your truth from your lies.

Undress my soul one petal at a time.

She can be dainty and still have claws. She can be sweet and still make fire. That’s her magic.

I think my soul was born with wings; it’s always restless, it won’t sit still.

When I told you to ruin me I wasn’t referring to my heart.

When in doubt, we follow our hearts. Words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated. But this – He tapped his chest, over his heart. ‘This is always true.

Injuries may be forgiven, but not forgotten

In the small matters trust the mind, in the large ones the heart.

If someone breaks your heart, just punch them in the face. Seriously. Punch them in the face and go get some ice cream.

Sadness diminishes a man’s powers.

Our lives are like the wind or like sounds. We come into being, resonate with each other. Then fade away.

Do not be too hard, lest you be broken; do not be too soft, lest you be squeezed.

It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.