We usually seek the divine in the sky, But religion is best found on the ground. Nature is our true creator.
STEPHANIE BRIARI fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
More Stephanie Briar Quotes
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If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
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I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
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Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.
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In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.
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When I was a child, I used to fear monsters under the bed. I have since learned that most monsters are found within. And they are always worth fighting.
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Let yourself go a little wild, a little rough around through the edges; the human spirit wasn’t meant for carefully-curated perfection.
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How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?
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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
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When you focus on directing your energy away from harm and toward healing, you feed the soul and starve the ego.
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Anxiety is living with an apple on your head and you imagine that everyone you know stands watching with a bow to shoot an arrow at it.
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Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
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The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.
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Emotion = Energy in motion.
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I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
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The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
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Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.
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You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.
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He’ll keep some daying and tommorwing until he has no tomorrows left. I don’t choose that.
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I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.
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I count the stars from whence we came. I name them all for you; my flame.
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The pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
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I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
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Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.
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I am strong. My heart still hopes. My mind still dreams. My soul still craves pouring energy into everything that I love.
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Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
STEPHANIE BRIAR