“These are girls made of dark lace and witchcraft and a little bit of vice.”

I know how to live with a blade and teach it not to make me bleed.

I am trying to stop being the ashes that you left behind.

We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are.

Womanhood is rich with unlearning. How to unlearn the way you hate your body.

You have to choose between freedom and comfort. You choose freedom. Of course you choose freedom.

I am so hungry for someone to love me.

And often when she finds herself missing him, missing the good moments with him, she whispers to herself, ‘The absence of you has taught me how to love myself. So thank you, my darling, my dearest.

We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are, and if you could save all the people who accepted you completely, wouldn’t you go back to save them too?

Survival is ugly. Healing is messy. Self-love is complicated. It is your hardest days as much as your best days that help you grow. All of this is part of being human.

Knowledge after all is a dark art.

If two Gods can love each other with no objection from the divine or the universe, who are mortals to tell other mortals who they can and cannot love?

But I am both nightmare and sin.

If you think the value of a woman is only in the curve of her hips and the shape of her breasts, you do not understand how to read beneath her jagged lines, the sacred geometry that make up her glorious heart and her beautiful mind.

Lies are often truth-shaped. They’re only containers you must turn inside out and shake till the truth tumbles out, wide eyed and confused, blinking in a light it never thought it would see.

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.

Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours. Infuse modern love with the hues of older romance. An agency that offers something real in a world that was increasingly becoming plastic.