“My head screamed. I want to make them burn the way they did to me. My heart cried that’s not who you are.”

Why are humans so afraid to break, when it is stunning on the other side.

I will never take for granted these eyes that allow me to witness the rare magic that you are.

When the moonlight is kind enough to illuminate your darkness. How can you ever say you are lonely?

Even if you were to lose it all – you would still be art.

My heart died in your hands and resurrected in my own.

I removed the dagger and used it to carve out a new life.

Focus on loving and accepting others more than your own need to be loved and accepted by others.

I am not my thoughts. I am the temple that hears the whispers of them.

Hearts don’t forget.

On the days I felt like I was going crazy he looked at me and said maybe its the rest of the world that’s crazy.

You are the sun. Soft yellow. Beaming flames. Gentle and fierce all at once.

I used to admire people who spoke their mind. Now I admire people who speak their heart.

Poetry is not something you try to grasp with your mind and wrap yourself around to figure it out.

I tried and tried to blow out the flame of a candle but it would not budge, it reminded me of us.

I am nature taking its divine and natural course. I am homes being rebuilt after a tragedy. I am healing.

I will take this heart, these lungs, these hands and I will rebuild.

While women were tortured, drowned and burned by the thousands, scarce one wizard to a hundred was ever condemned … The same distinction of sex appears in our own day. One code of morals for men, another for women.

There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches.

One remarkable fact stands out in the history of witchcraft; and that is, its victims were chiefly women. Scarce one wizard to a hundred witches was ever burned or tortured.

At present, Nations are burning. But, their leaders mistake the ash for snow.

For what I have publish’d, I can only hope to be pardon’d; but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais’d.

He looks at me as if I’m the flame and he’s the sea; he’d turn his tide for a chance to burn with me.

Even in darkness, your light burns with the cosmic energy of a thousand falling stars.

I should never have played with fire and I did. And I got very burned.