“Look how wildflowers bloom from your skin. So why hold back those tears when your soil needs them?”

I stepped into love with grace. I stepped out of love with grace. The beginning was beautiful. The ending was beautiful.

The irony of crashing into me is I will show you what safety looks like.

The truth is your skin was my skin and shedding you is not an easy process.

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

Don’t strive to become more. Strive to become whole.

You were so gentle with my messy burdens, my tender wounds and the cracks in my broken soul that I became gentle with them, too.

I am mystic bones and a curious heart. Pain and joy and stardust skin. A sacred soul container. Time and space and matter and illusion. Expansion and contraction. A breathing universe.

I can feel hope beginning to sprout from all parts of me that were once punctured.

Choose to soften. Again and again and again. Despite, despite, despite.

Those who are unkind to themselves will not appreciate your kindness. Do it anyway.

I know our bodies were engagement in the act of sex. But did you hear how loudly our souls were making music?

Glass can shatter, yet still be created into nothing short of art. And so can you.

It is a paradox, you see the act of giving is what fills you.

It’s time for that spark that twinkles inside your stomach to become a roaring forest fire.

I have died and rebirth a million times inside this body, and I have met a million people because of it.

Take refuge in your own arms. Collapse into the protection of your own body. It’s the safest home you will ever know.

Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude.

Be like the flower, turn your faces to the sun.

If your hair’s too busy for flowers, your shirt’s a good spot for ’em!

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in – what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.

God created the world with a great variety of flowers of all colours.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.

I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.

Every flower has its beauty, which is unique.