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.
NIKITA GILLThe world is not allowed to make a meal of you, girl. It is there for your consuming.
More Nikita Gill Quotes
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There is something moon-soaked and dawn-flavoured about her.
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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.
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Grandmothers are a gift not to be taken lightly. So many lose them, before they are old enough to know their magic. I am glad my bones were born with this knowledge.
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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.
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Everyone you love is slowly dying and if you choose not to love them right they will die without knowing.
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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.
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There is a difference between holy and pure. Holy is also the way the anger boils inside our throats.
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There is an art in the emptiness of all natural things.
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Those freckles make you seem like a galaxy of stars, just waiting to be explored and loved.
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In human beings, a black hole is spending your energy loving someone who takes all of your love and gives back nothing in return.
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So when they ask you what you weigh, you don’t need to look down at any scale. Instead, simply tell them the truth; tell them how you weigh whole universes and storms and scars and stories, too.
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The truth is, any hardship is bearable if you have someone to share it.
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Perhaps magic is in the habit of choosing sharp-eyed girls who ask too many questions for their own good. Perhaps it chooses girls who are not unloved, but not fully loved either.
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The absence of abuse does not automatically equal a healthy relationship. The absence of trauma does not automatically equal joy.
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A mess of beautiful contradictions make her whole, she wears fire for skin but a storm lives in her soul.
NIKITA GILL