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

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.

Maybe I am something special but nothing spectacular.

I am hell-bent on loving my hell.

Think of how good tomorrow might be.

I love my sadness because it is honest.

You write poems or you are a poem. That is where you’ll shine.

Your love is only as good as your intention.

Your trauma is never indicative of who you are and how well you deserve to be loved.

Meet me with authenticity or not at all.

Do you see who I am beyond your judgment? I lay with my core, and there is a force in there.

Don’t fear it. That pull between your heart and mind. It is trying to teach you. It is learning your language.

It’s hard to know who I am when who I am always swallows me whole.

If my skin is going to crawl, I pray it crawls into safer spaces.

All good novelists have bad memories. What you remember comes out as journalism; what you forget goes into the compost of the imagination.

My thing with failure, just forget about it and get up and do it again.

We both chased our dreams and our dreams chased us. Yet we forgot to chase each other.

I’ve just read that I am dead. Don’t forget to delete me from your list of subscribers.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

A pair of bright eyes with a dozen glances suffice to subdue a man; to enslave him, and enflame him; to make him even forget; they dazzle him so that the past becomes straightway dim to him; and he so prizes them that he would give all his life to possess ’em.

There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.

Those who forgets their friends to follow those of a higher status are truly snobs.