“Growth is no longer seeking acceptance from those who cannot give it to themselves.”

Whole, loved and worthy just as you are.

From each scar today bloom the flowers of a kinder tomorrow.

You are already more than enough.

Don’t reorient yourself to fit in to an upside down world.

Let’s get perfectly lost recklessly joyful, let’s rest a while in this sweet reverie.

Love me as a storm would rage full force or not at all.

You keep planting sympathy in rows meant for empathy and I’m here picking weeds with tears in my eyes.

Poetry runs through tired veins reviving once sleeping souls.

Tend to your own garden and watch the beauty you begin to see in others.

Less rushing, more lingering. Less distraction, more noticing. Less comparison, more gratitude.

Stars fell in our eyes the night sky our canvas, we painted the moon red.

I was always looking at you.

Hope is the gentle salve the world needs.

In the rise and fall of all that is let me be your moon, your sun.

I will love you from afar it’s better this way because close up it hurts too much.

Poems are nothing more than raindrops on a page falling from an open soul, staining the page one shade darker, and opening the one closed passage between me and you.

We don’t ask a flower any special reason for its existence. We just look at it and are able to accept it as being something different from ourselves.

I want to learn how to be more thankful for what I am, than guilty for what I’m not.

The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.

No matter how good or bad we may feel, no matter how up or down we may be, Christ loves us, accepts us, and thinks the world of us.

She has a choice. She can either accept a life of misery or she can struggle against it. And she chooses to struggle…she fails in the end but there’s something beautiful and even heroic in her rebellion.

It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession.

We’re so used to presenting ourselves and getting approval according to our achievements that it’s difficult to be authentic and trust that we’ll be accepted just as we are.

If you repeat a lie often enough it becomes accepted as truth.