“To be the shadow for a moment, to remind the light that it’s real.”

You’ve got the kind of soul that leaves my heart open overflowing with the light you bring.

The things people try to destroy in you, are a reflection of the things they lack within themselves.

Your magic is too golden, too sky-opening, too hearts-bursting to be buried quietly away.

You are made from the dust of the star’s magic being birthed from every step you take.

Being afraid to love won’t keep you from getting hurt; it will keep you from yourself.

Alchemize what tries to poison you, into what inevitably heals you.

The moment only lasts as long as you don’t cling to it.

I am tired of not writing to you about how powerful it is, when you don’t need to feel beautiful to know that you are.

Your power exists within the pain you were asked to face.

You don’t want an apology, you want relief from the pain they caused you – so be the relief they never could be.

Your greatest self lies within the hands of your inner child- the you who used to chase their shadows instead run from them.

I hope you give freely to yourself all the love, that the world told you, you have to fight for.

The magic that lives in being loved for who you are in the shadows, not just for how you appear in the light.

An angel cannot be blind to the fire below – lest she risk becoming it.

Trying to reason with the poem is precisely how you lose it.

I am one part fire and two parts passion. There is not a thing that could put me out.

Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go.

The life of this world and the hereafter, in the heart of a person are like the two scales of a balance, when one becomes heavier, the other becomes lighter

Culture looks beyond machinery, culture hates hatred; culture has one great passion, the passion for sweetness and light.

Light confirms my reality, gives birth to my form…without light I am not only invisible but formless as well; and to be unaware of one’s form is to live a death…the truth is the light and light is the truth.

Below the surface stream, shallow and light, Of what we say and feel below the stream, As light, of what we think we feel, there flows With noiseless current, strong, obscure and deep, The central stream of what we feel indeed.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish ’twere done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.

Just as darkness is sometimes defined as the absence of light, so age is defined as the absence of youth.