“Never allow any soul to clips your wings, you were born an ember. You were born a flame.”

You’re too powerful to be a slave of acceptance.

If you don’t set your spirit free now then when will you find your wild.

And one day I hope your path leads you to a place where you love yourself as much as I love you.

Their compliments should not define you and nor should their criticism break you.

There is a fire raging inside you; do not allow anyone to extinguish it. And so on these nights when you think you are broken, remember the flame, and feel it burn.

There is a world up ahead where people are not targeted for beliefs or bodies, where peace isn’t a fantasy but reality. Build the world you hope your children will see.

I had all of the love in the world but I could not see it. We are blind when we don’t know how to love the very bones and blood that make us.

Shame bleeds through generation to generation. That is not the legacy I wish for you.

Be the light that floods the wounds of people lost in their own darkness.

If you don’t set your spirit free now then when will you find your wild.

Missing you is the cruelest thing I could do to my heart, and maybe that’s why I do it: its easier to hurt myself than love myself.

We all have a voice. If you take a stand, you could be changing someones life.

Never allow any soul to clips your wings, you were born an ember. You were born a flame.

There is a world up ahead where people are not targeted for beliefs or bodies, where peace isn’t a fantasy but reality. Build the world you hope your children will see.

Peer into the depths of your soul and see – your magic exceeds that of the stars. Imagine you are viewing the universe you are.

You are nothing but sheer miracles, born from ashes of women who have walked this earth before you.

He was right – she was beating herself up about hurting his feelings. The girl was a classic martyr. She’d totally been born in the wrong century. She should have lived back when she could have gotten herself fed to some lions for a good cause.

We go to the grave of a friend saying, “A man is dead,” but angels throng about him saying, “A man is born.”

Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous “I don’t know.

Thankful for the rose grateful for its thorns these lessons bloom like weeds from them I am reborn.

She has learned so much from dying only to be born again.

Aren’t all poets born from tragedy?

To be man’s tender mate was woman born, and in obeying nature she best serves the purposes of heaven.

Between holding on and letting go october discerns october knows, that life lurks between the clouds of death and death breathes with every rebirth.