“My arms spread like wings to your side of the bed, as I close my eyes. The sound of the rain, like music to my ears, my body sinks deep into my sheets. As I fall asleep with my heart in peace.”

I guess that is why no one would ever forget you. Because you carried the weight of your pain along with others.

Your voice sends vibrations through my ears, as the frequency of each word that falls from your lips, tracing every bone of my spine, making me weak.

Love never failed you, people did.

The parts of me you are afraid of, are the parts that are ready to be loved by you.

The blessings feel different when there is love and peace in your heart.

I don’t want to live here, you frame memories I don’t want to remember, and gather your dust on memories I want hold on to.

We fail ourselves in many ways by hoping and praying for people to change, but little do we know the more rely on others, our growth delays.

Let them walk away. They will grasp for air, because of your absence, and because you were already ten steps ahead of them.

Conserving my energy for those who take their time, to find the light in me.

Place your hand over your heart, and tell yourself that love lives here and healing lives here. And pain is no longer welcome here.

So may you love my roots and my thorns, just as much as you love the rose that I am —but don’t pick on my petals.

Treat her like a dream. Follow her, pursue her, and always remind her that you’ll never give up on her.

It’s okay to fear the things you can’t control, but let go of what you can no longer hold.

No matter how often we draw the lines, we will cross them – my favorite type of art.

Do not look for me if you haven’t found yourself first.

The only fire that was left in us, was the one I never lit up within myself.

I hate housework! You make the beds, you do the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again.

I had a nice dinner. I let the evening unfold, flow. I like to sit in a chair with a wine glass. When I woke up, I thought, ‘Why didn’t I go to bed at 11?’ I came back at 3 and went to bed at 5.

Double up, baby. Your lips are the song and the dance floor is our bed.

Any man who’s not willing to take half a loaf in a negotiation, well, that man never went to bed hungry.

And I love the idea of spending the whole day in bed with my lover.

I remember when I used to sit on hospital beds and hold peoples hands, people used to be shocked because they d never seen this before. To me it was quite normal.

To choose one’s victims, to prepare one’s plan minutely, to slake an implacable vengeance, and then to go to bed… There is nothing sweeter in the world.

Being a mother is a little like ‘Groundhog’s Day.’ It’s getting out of bed and doing the exact same things again and again and yet again – and it’s watching it all get undone again and again and yet again. It’s humbling, monotonous, mind-numbing, and solitary.