“And you say you are broken, but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light.”

Sometimes you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling. You just feel it in a way that makes you tired to your very bones.

Heroes are never born fearless. They become heroes by facing their fears, by meeting them head on and saying, ‘You do not control me, or own me anymore.

what a perfect collision of star it was that came together at just the right moment at just the right time to build the incredible thing that is you.

The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

Do not disregard or hate the maps on your skin and soul. These scars have never diminished your worth, they are the stories that make you whole.

Did you really think she was a tender flower you could trample upon, and damage her very soul? She is wildfire. And she is coming to devour you whole.

As leaves cover the forest floor in a carpet of vibrant rusts, orange and gold, autumn proves that sometimes death too can be a beautiful thing.

People talk about love like it is patient and kind. Love is also dark. It is ferocious and angry and destructive.

Teach your daughters their battle cries are needed far more than their silence and hear them deafen the world with their fearlessness.

You deserve someone who lets you glow in every way you need to.

Some things are beautiful, but they are beautiful in the way of the sun. If you fly too close, they will melt your wings and send you plummeting into the sea.

Her mother told her she could grow up to be anything she wanted be, so she grew up to become the strongest of the strong, the strangest of the strange, the wildest of the wild, the wolf leading wolves.

I hope you summon your courage and you invite your demons to tea, and you learn to listen to all their stories.

She is alone, and oh how brilliantly she burns.

You are a dangerous collection of all my favorite things. An old soul, a heart of gold, and hands that make my body sing.

You are not his princess; you are your own queen.

I can tell you that anything that happens in the physical body will happen in the pattern of the energy fields first.

I’ve yet to find the exact word to describe the enjoyment that an evening spent riffling through old pattern books can bring.

All is pattern, all life, but we can’t always see the pattern when we’re part of it.

I have worked with some horrible idiots in my life. You learn the pattern of how architects work and the thing is not to fight it. Just to be very quiet, let them get on with it and let them really mess it up.

The power to guess the unseen from the seen, to trace the implications of things, to judge the whole piece by the pattern . . . this cluster of gifts may almost be said to constitute experience.

Learning to savor the vertigo of doing without answers or making do with fragmentary ones opens up the pleasures of recognizing and playing with patterns, finding coherence within complexity, sharing within multiplicity.

If what the heart approves conforms to proper patterns, then even if one’s desires are many, what harm would they be to good order?

We are all part of some great cycle, some pattern that it was only God’s purpose to understand.