“You always told me that I was the child with one foot out the door. But, did you ever consider that it was for my own safety?”

There is power in my peace and it is loud without sound.

If you ever forget your worth just ask me. I’ll remind you.

I gave my sadness a full name so that I stop thinking of her as an intruder and start acknowledging that I do have to learn how to live with her.

I will tell you one thing, though: I grew like hell from it.

Nothing comes easy for me but that makes me love it more.

The universe hears what you say, but it knows what you mean.

I can finally cry and let it be relief. My tears can be my medicine and not my poison.

I take great comfort in knowing that there are even better versions of myself I haven’t hugged yet.

Can we be easy on ourselves for once?

To cry means that you are feeling as much as you possibly can in that moment and that is exactly what I mean when I say you are alive.

There is a person inside of me who deserves kindness.

Stare hard at the hurt. Ask why it stings. Dig into the root and rip it out. It doesn’t have to stay there just because it grew there.

And who will advocate for me? Me. Even when it feels lonely. Lonely is where we grow the most.

Love does not equate staying quiet. Sometimes it has to be outspoken, always loud, and forever on fire.

I must be worth something if my heart thinks so.

And what happens when you run out of words? You listen. Deeply. To everything around you.

Your children need your presence more than your presents.

Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for she was born in another time.

There’s no such thing as a tough child – if you parboil them first for seven hours, they always come out tender.

I was an only child so, at home, I’m turnt up by myself, doing whatever I wanna do.

I like children. If they’re properly cooked.

Buildings, too, are children of Earth and Sun.

I tell myself that God gave my children many gifts – spirit, beauty, intelligence, the capacity to make friends and to inspire respect. There was only one gift he held back – length of life.

I don’t want my kids saying, ‘My dad was a gangster, so I need to be a gangster. I would rather mine say, ‘My dad was a stunna, so I need to be a stunna.