“I don’t think the world is ever getting better; I guess maybe people just find new ways to hide what kills them.”

I can sing love; only I’m afraid the lyrics might get shattered again.

I guess there’s so much in your absence that kills my soul from the burning wood to ash.

No one thing stays the same after a goodbye.

What if love has always been the quench and the fire? or perhaps all we need to lose to find all we need to have?

Just as it demands blood, to meet bone, It’ll forever take something painful to understand pain.

I swear I love her so much that somedays I can’t quite tell if I’m just a good liar.

You’re gone. And I think I’m only trying to mean a lot to myself too.

To heal is to be constantly reminded that once you learn to punch, you die with blood on your wrist.

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Either the jump or the drown, loving her has always readied me for the fire.

If ever the fall is the ground, someone tell her I’m this close to soil, and I can feel it!

These sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.

Breathe in the pain and bring out the wounds. It’s only a process and you’ll learn to survive the rest.

Give everything some time; pain hasn’t learn to walk yet.

Somedays depression is tender, as though hurting is just an art; and that maybe she didn’t break me more than enough!

Like a fractured bone in the ribs, the heart can be painfully heavy sometimes.

Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.

I despise women wearing too much makeup. It hides their actual beauty.

There’s a bit of hidden magic in every mistake. The magic is called learning.

It’s amazing what you can hide just by putting on a smile.

Let anyone laugh and taunt if he so wishes. I am not keeping silent, nor am I hiding the signs and wonders that were shown to me by the Lord many years before they happened, who knew everything, even before the beginning of time.

Under every stone lurks a politician.

One bush, they say, can never hide two thieves.

Janie looked down on him and felt a self-crushing love. So her soul crawled out from its hiding place.