“Perhaps the saddest of all are those who living waiting for someone they’re not sure exists.”

It must hurt to know I am your most beautiful regret.

My heart aches for sisters more than anything it aches for women helping women like flowers ache for spring.

That is the thing about selfish people. They gamble entire beings. Entire souls to please their own.

You’ve touched me without even touching me.

I am losing parts of you like I lose eyelashes unknowingly and everywhere.

This morning I told the flowers what I’d do for you and they blossomed.

My heart is beating, and I’m breathing, and nothing anybody has ever done has changed that.

You cannot leave and have me too I cannot exist in two places at once-when you ask if we can still be friends.

You were not wrong for leaving you were wrong for coming back and thinking you could have me when it was convenient and leave when it was not.

Even if this is a mistake. It could only be right to be this wrong with you.

Loneliness is a sign you are in desperate need of yourself.

You look at me and cry everything hurts. I hold you and whisper but everything can heal.

The world gives you so much pain and here you are making gold out of it – there is nothing purer than that.

I am not a hotel room I am home, I am not the whiskey you want I am the water you need, don’t come here with expectations and try to make a vacation out of me.

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I have to convince half the world’s population that my body is not their bed.

Sometimes I stop myself from saying the words out loud as if leaving my mouth too often might wear them down.

I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.

Existence is prior to essence.

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.

I am going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, softly, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red bench in the streetcar.

That’s what existence means: draining one’s own self dry without the sense of thirst.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.

That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.

Art is the most effective mode of communications that exists.