“My heart is a wild flower.”

If only the goodbyes were food.

The world moves in circles.

Every fire needs air to breathe.

You are not your emotions.

Stay wherever you find hope.

Go where the energy flows.

I see your face in every sunset.

Kindness always comes back.

Giving is the greatest gift.

Illusions can be changed.

Your madness is your map follow it.

Not all flowers bloom in April.

There is no end to your light.

Allow your softest sides to show.

Your patience is your power.

Brokenness is a beginning.

Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time’s eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die.

In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.

He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!

I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.

Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally.

Generosity is the flower of justice.

Love is a flower that grows in any soil, works its sweet miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the year, and blessing those who give and those who receive.

In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the breaking of new blooms.