“Don’t surround yourself with people who run away from growth. Don’t limit yourself knowing you can evolve, do better and be better. Because you deserve better.”

I guess that is why no one would ever forget you. Because you carried the weight of your pain along with others.

Your voice sends vibrations through my ears, as the frequency of each word that falls from your lips, tracing every bone of my spine, making me weak.

Love never failed you, people did.

The parts of me you are afraid of, are the parts that are ready to be loved by you.

The blessings feel different when there is love and peace in your heart.

I don’t want to live here, you frame memories I don’t want to remember, and gather your dust on memories I want hold on to.

We fail ourselves in many ways by hoping and praying for people to change, but little do we know the more rely on others, our growth delays.

Let them walk away. They will grasp for air, because of your absence, and because you were already ten steps ahead of them.

Conserving my energy for those who take their time, to find the light in me.

Place your hand over your heart, and tell yourself that love lives here and healing lives here. And pain is no longer welcome here.

So may you love my roots and my thorns, just as much as you love the rose that I am —but don’t pick on my petals.

Treat her like a dream. Follow her, pursue her, and always remind her that you’ll never give up on her.

It’s okay to fear the things you can’t control, but let go of what you can no longer hold.

My arms spread like wings to your side of the bed, as I close my eyes. The sound of the rain, like music to my ears, my body sinks deep into my sheets. As I fall asleep with my heart in peace.

No matter how often we draw the lines, we will cross them – my favorite type of art.

Do not look for me if you haven’t found yourself first.

Troubles are often the tools by which God fashions us for better things.

Who takes care of their people better? FEMA or Hezbollah?

I still got bars, I just use ’em differently. I’d say I’m a better singer than I am a rapper at this point because I’ve been sharpening my sword.

The shame of being a man – is there any better reason to write?

How sternly we reproach virtue for its failings, how indulgent we are to the better qualities of vice!

It is better to have a prosaic husband and to take a romantic lover.

I do think the patriotic thing to do is to critique my country. How else do you make a country better but by pointing out its flaws?

Substantial progress toward better things can rarely be taken without developing new evils requiring new remedies.