“Maybe living your truth will not make you happy all the time, but it will make you happy every day.”

There is an art in the emptiness of all natural things.

Maybe magic ends with me and it will never cross your path, but I want you to remember that survival is an art. The world is falsehood so you rely on your smarts.

I’d like to think our love does return to us reincarnated in different human forms. That people might be temporary, but love is permanent and it just changes form.

There is a spell for almost anything and if there’s not a spell, there is at least a poem.

When I set out to find my father, I was not being brave. I was acting out of fear or losing the only parent I ever had. They may want you to believe I was simple being brave, but anxiety makes more heroes than history would care to repeat.

Because girls who were building empires for themselves did not need kingdoms to shine.

The river takes what she wants, does what she desires, and washes over anything that stands in her way.

I had hoped one day to find someone who loves my monsters, the wolves that I feed, the demons I sing to sleep, the tiger that is my caged heart, the parts of me I do not talk about. I prayed and wished and yearned until I realized that I had already found her within me.

There are graveyards inside you made of people that made you ache, made of memories that you barely survived made of trauma and heartbreak. These graveyards need to become gardens where you plant flowers that blossom, for you to let go.

So sing a soft lullaby to the things you hate about yourself, and get to know them too.

There is something moon-soaked and dawn-flavoured about her.

These are women made of terrible tempests and savage storms and the untamed unwanted.

Fearless already runs through your blood. Now do it justice.

You become the thing that hurts you until it can hurt you no more.

I am so afraid of disappointing the people I love, I often forget that I am someone I love too. And I need kindness just as much as I believe the people I love do.

Every woman is both match and spark, a light for each other from the dark.

The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day’s ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.

Each day my reason tells me so; But reason doesn’t rule in love, you know.

Can you therefore say that there are no stars in the heavens during the day? Because you cannot find God in the days of your ignorance, say not that there is no God.

When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow’s falser than the former day.

I wish my days could be washed away like the chalk lines of my days.

Thanksgiving is the holiday that encompasses all others. All of them, from Martin Luther King Day to Arbor Day to Christmas to Valentine’s Day, are in one way or another about being thankful.

Let no day slip over without some comfort received from the mouth of God.

While I am compassed round With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief, Whence, like the bird of night, with half-shut eyes, She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day.