“Seek no homes in other people’s chests.”

The loneliest thing you can ever do is take very instance where you should grow and waste it by only thinking how could this happen to you?

Bathe with ice-cold water of the ocean just to feel something again.

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.

They kept trying to make me less angry, but I refuse to surrender my rage.

It happens suddenly. One day, your parents don’t pick you up any more.

Stop looking for people who only want your beauty and turn away your chaos and darkness.

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.

I’m just more content with myself. Like, if I’ve got something to say, I want to get it off of my chest.

I can’t say I was really that surprised when the doctor told me I needed a defibrillator inserted in my chest.

I can honestly say, after talking about my mom passing away, I got the biggest weight off of my chest.

Modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.

Think of mission like the paddles of a defibrillator applied to the chest of a dying church.

You pause and attend: the heart beats in your chest; outside, the trees are thick with new leaves, a swallow dips over them, the light moves, people are going about their business.

You can’t hurt a man with a pinprick when he’s already got a spear in his chest.

Every person has a revolution beating within his or her chest