“I have cried with the rain. Now I will grow with the forest.”

Into the soft sand I will carve your name and let the ocean steal what little remains.

We were a storm that couldn’t decide where to let the rain fall. I never wanted to let go and you didn’t know how to stop.

Oh, how beautifully you will bloom again.

Nothing grows from spreading hate, You’ll find that out quite soon. But plant some love within its place, the world will surely bloom.

The wild is always changing like a reminder. You do not have to be the same to be beautiful.

Watching the sun rise again over the rooftops i whisper the things i wish would come back, too. Like hope like happiness like you.

Don’t you understand? I do not want you to fight for me. I do not want this to feel like a war.

And sometimes I think I could touch the sky because these hands were made to reach and this heart was built to survive.

Some pain stays but we learn to carry it.

I am always trying to be more than I am instead of remembering that what I am is more than enough.

We broke away from each other like clouds after a storm. But the sun never reappeared for me and I don’t know what to do with all this rain.

The thing about healing is that it keeps growing the more time passes, and the thing about time is that it keep passes.

Like a storm that does not know where to let the rain fall, sometimes i do not know how to let go and other times i do not know how to stop.

Please don’t be afraid when i tell you about this emptiness i carry. I am still so full of love.

Sunflowers adapt to let the light reach them and I’m learning to do the same.

I want to be like the wild; Never afraid to grow.

It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.

What I cry out for, like every being, with my whole life and all my earthly passion, is something very different from an equal to cherish: it is a God to adore.

Don’t cut my throat, I may want to do that later myself.

I was a left-handed dentist who made people cry.

You’ll never have any trouble with Mr. T, I’m just a big, calm teddy bear kind of guy. Mr. T ain’t ashamed to cry.

My mother told me, ‘Son, nobody else but God knows.’ And that’s what I’m about – reaching out to the people, crying with them, giving them hope.

When I go out and I meet people who are suffering and they come and talk to me, Mr. T cries, Mr. T who could break a man’s jaw with his fist.

You’re still crying about him aren’t you? Silly girl. What good will it do you to spill those sky blu tears? You meant either everything to him or absolutely nothing at all.