Love is easier to carry than hate. So I untangle from my past and realize my fate. Transcend the pain to forgiveness, to nurture my scars. We are what we witness, and we are also stars.
ALETHEIA LIOLAHow many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.
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Evil exists in the shadows of our world and I’m realizing that without the darkness there would be no light. We need both to stay alive.
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All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
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Forgiveness for others and yourself too will transform your world into a beautiful view.
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Be aware of the judgments that you and others conjure. The words reflect the inner world; the doctrines that you sponsor.
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You can find beauty in the darkest of places. Be the light, my love. Bring smiles to their faces.
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Trust assumes loyalty; and loyalty in the true sense of the word, the infinite, devoted kind of loyalty – that kind of loyalty doesn’t exist anymore.
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Contemplation; intrinsic. I am aligned perception. A, perfected plan. I am ferocious and tranquil. Rising. Pain to power. Alchemic. Energising
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Abstruse spite bleeds from their mouth. I hear the venom, It’s screaming so loud, And yet so benign Reaction, not roused Their “nasty”, so nice The beast lost its shroud.
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I am worthy and steely. I will conquer again. Truth as my armor; My sword is my pen. Tell me I can’t and I’ll show you I will surviving and thriving is my refined skill.
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Truth as my armour. My sword as my pen. I’ll do what I will to prevail again. Shining so brightly so they shot me down. Did they not know how hard I would bounce?
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I think I may be in way over my head. I’ll learn how to breathe underwater instead.
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How do we trust others when we can’t even trust ourselves?
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How many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.
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He dirtied my name with his dark and muddy lies. The earth he left grew flowers for the butterflies & now I thrive.
ALETHEIA LIOLA