“Violets are blue, you have no clue how much I love you.”

Live up to what seems the best, not what people tell you is the best.

Tell me you are not aching, tell me you’re pretending.

Respect your body, it’s a home to be thankful for.

Those pages became the ocean I left my traces on.

There always will be people to put you down, make sure there always is your desire to stay strong.

It’s good to give up on some things, sometimes it lets you free.

Let your love consume you.

There’s another part of me which resists you, which loves me.

Even the pages I ink crave your name.

Remind yourself that you ended a chapter to start a new one not to re-read the previous one.

I need a house, full of books, devoid of heartaches.

People don’t last, their actions say the lasting words for them.

As far as possible, let’s meet beyond the stars.

Let me know you to the core, let me be sweet to the sour.

I wish I could go back in time, not to do it all over again but just to be there for myself.

Filled with sorrow yet empty.

You bloom one day, you do not on another. This is life and every flower doesn’t require the same amount of sunshine.

Isn’t it a lovely thing watching flowers greet the wind as if a gentle kiss is all they need to dance.

Nothing in the whole world is of interest to me but my painting and my flowers.

The world is conditioned to admire flowers. Keep watering your roots.

A profusion of fancies and quotations is out of place in a love-letter. True feeling is always direct, and never deviates into by-ways to cull flowers of rhetoric.

Pain made me grow in the most unexpected places. And now I know what it feels like to be a wildflower.

Never again will I hand deliver my heart to a man holding flowers when the thorns cut me deeper than the flowers ever made me happy.

I must have flowers, always, and always.