“This morning I tell the kindest man on earth after two dates, you are good and you are not my man. My man is not as good as you.”

The most revolutionary act women can do is take back the life that belongs to you.

My entire life I’ve waited for a man to teach the world how to treat me and if he’d step in and convince them all.

I should now admit I once made a fake account just to talk to you once more.

It finally happened like I thought it might I run into you.

Hour 36 of labor. I pull at god’s necktie dig a hole at the hospital floor.

You can’t go to a kindergarten teacher after me.

One tornado I lived through got the house.

The argentinian kisses me on a beach in tulum.

May my children never read this.

You’re rolling me in coffee hands I’m u-turn smoked rubber coming back- oh I’m spent, ask on the still.

When I reached for what I wanted, they said I left my needs behind. But if all birds need is on the ground why then do they fly?

Oh the salt water I had to sweat to realize there was an ocean inside of me.

I found my old diary tonight. A brokenness I had forgotten pen pressured so deep it punctured page. I ran my fingers over my words and there inside ridges black I found a little girl desperate for someone to save her, desperate for the very woman I have become.

I know this won’t always be a good deal for me I make it anyway.

Don’t get too used to being alone.

I want to be in an Jane Austen novel with you.

If you believe that the world is going to come to an end – and perhaps any day now – does it not drain one’s motivation to improve life on earth while we’re here?

Peace on earth starts with peace within.

Sorrows, as storms, bring down the clouds close to the earth; sorrows bring heaven down close; and they are instruments of cleansing and purifying.

In order for music to free itself, it will have to pass over to the other side – there where territories tremble, where the structures collapse, where the ethoses get mixed up, where a powerful song of the earth is unleashed, the great ritornelles that transmutes all the airs it carries away and makes return.

Every wave is a water sprite who swims in the current, each current is a path which snakes towards my palace, and my palace is fluidly built at the bottom of the lake, in the triangle of earth, fire and water.

This nation is able to legislate for its own people on every question, without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation on earth.

She is the rarest sun gem birthed from the deepest core of Earth sanity.

The French are the wittiest, the most charming, and up to the present, at all events, the least musical race on Earth.