“Stand up straight and face the world; love its best, accept its worst.”

I’ve learned the difference between being a good person and being a popular.

The hardest goodbyes are the ones you never got to say.

My dearest contradiction. You are soft and obliterating, like the moon’s glare upon a sinner.

I’d prefer to wield a rose than to wield the gun.

We parted sadly, like children in the street on a pleasant june afternoon.

I ache and long and feel in a language older than ours; one without words or phrases, consisting only of melancholy.

Every word I write is crude and weak when it comes to conveying you how much I appreciate you.

We are all marks of condensation on polished glass; steadily fading away.

The only person you’ll spend your entire life with is yourself. You should be your first focus.

Branches bow, longing to reach the crisp, punctured leaves, their old shedded skin.

People are good. No matter what. Beneath the rage and fear lies a wounded heart. We must do what we can do to heal it.

Make the choice; to be comfortable or to be alive.

The flowers burn the grass, a thousand splendid suns; and life returns to everything as hope refills my lungs.

You’re an ocean that I can’t navigate. If storms wrack your surface, I dread to think what horrors lie in your depths.

The deepest relationships belong to the friends who were one lovers, and the lovers who were once friends.

The sun has one lesson for us: learn to see the light on a rainy day.

Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her; but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.

It’s easier to accept the fact that you’re just not good enough. We all have a lot more than we think we have.

We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.

We were poor. But my mom never accepted that. She worked hard to become a residential contractor – got her master’s with honors at the University of New Orleans. I used to go to every class with her. Her father was my paternal figure.

You may not like what’s happening, but just accept it, and let’s try to live together.

I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.

It’s so uplifting to see people working together to spread love and acceptance.

Racism in healthcare, specifically reproductive healthcare, is unacceptable.