“They silenced her tongue, for they feared how sharp it might cut them.”

Turn me into dust for my bones have given up.

She promised herself a smile today.

How unfortunate that we tend to miss the ones who leave but neglect the ones who stay.

She just wants to understand what it feels like to be herself again.

Fear lives in the mind of doubt. Courage lives in the minds of those who dream.

Find beauty in my scars. For I’m a walking gallery of several masterpieces.

I am suffocated by the arms, I once called home.

In my quiet is when the voices in my head get the loudest.

Within me lies an abundance of love that your ego was too blind to see.

Perfection is what I craved, from a far from perfect world.

All burdens are gifted heavy, but through you runs a abundance of strength strong enough to carry it.

My skin will continue to carry your memories, even if my mind wants to forget.

There is strength in breaking and becoming.

I refuse to be strong for them, for I’m allowing myself to embrace my weak.

Beauty now lies behind some of the deepest of scars where pain once called home.

There is magic in shattering, for the most beautiful masterpieces are made from broken glass.

Swallow you fears, wipe off your tears, let go of you darkest years. Chin up. Smile. Walk away.

It is better for you to be free of fear lying upon a pallet, than to have a golden couch and a rich table and be full of trouble.

Work is life, you know, and without it, there’s nothing but fear and insecurity.

The major ingredient of any recipe for fear is the unknown.

When woman has a newspaper which fear and favor cannot touch, then it will be that she can freely write her own thoughts.

What I wanted to express very clearly and intensely was that the reason these people had to invent or imagine heroes and gods is pure fear. Fear of life and fear of death.

Have no fear of perfection; you’ll never reach it.

Now is the time to understand more, so we fear less.