“Don’t talk to me like I am a lost little girl I am a wolf and these are my woods.”

The contradiction of my lips so cold outside so warm within.

I am never going to stop trying to translate meaning from mundane.

I will bring you all of my dead flowers if you will breathe me a promise of spring.

No matter the storm you are still standing to guide me home.

I am an expert at breaking my own heart.

The sun and moon are both awake, flirting from across the sky.

Without question, you have been the greatest adventure of my life.

There is no point in uprooting yourself to prove to others you can bloom.

The only thing that fills the void is pulling things out of it.

If it is love it is always enough love is a quality, not a quantity.

Home is where you feel.

I send you videos of birds you keep pointing out my wings.

Here I am spitting up roses in your name I hope you choke on the thorns.

There is magic in the minuscule.

Some of my favorite things are moments you have given me.

You spent years planting red flags convincing me they were roses.

I never ran my train off the track, and I never lost a passenger.

Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. But the happiness in your heart can only be dimmed; it will always be there as long as you live, to make you happy again.

Poetry is what is lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation.

We know how tough it is to find purpose in the memory of the loved one you lost. It will take time – but you will find it, and we will find our purpose as a nation.

Every day is lost in which we do not learn something useful. Man has no nobler or more valuable possession than time.

Advances in medicine and agriculture have saved vastly more lives than have been lost in all the wars in history.

Do not grieve so much for a husband lost that it wastes away your life.

I have lost all my skills, and now I know how it feels to be utterly helpless like you and your sister.