“Everyday healing has a different face. Sometimes familiar. Sometimes a stranger.”

Let the music fill the empty patches of your soul. And heal you.

You are the sand that doesn’t stick when I am dry and sad.

I am the shore and you are the tide. We come together only to get pulled in opposite directions.

You’re good at telling me lies laced with honesty.

Dear love, I’m starting to wonder where you are. I’m starting to wonder if you’ll ever find me.

You took the light parts of me and turned them dark.

When our time expires my love for you won’t.

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel wanted by you.

I’ve learned to stop begging for love. At the wrong door.

With you, I am everything I’ve ever been told I’m not.

Its better to walk into the fire than never feel the heat of the flames.

We both believed in love but one of us believed more than the other.

If you can learn to love yourself you’ll find a great company in your alone.

I am a paradox learning to be linear.

Please stop trying to make me the ghost of your past lover.

I’m hurting because I can hear your heartbreaking from two rooms over.

Glorify who you are today, do not condemn who you were yesterday, and dream of who you can be tomorrow.

I’m really big on day dates. If you go for a stroll, have a picnic or lunch with a glass of wine – it doesn’t get better than that.

I did rocks, all this dumb stuff. But now it’s just trying to stay afloat and just get through the days.

We should round every day of stirring action with an evening of thought. We learn nothing of our experience except we muse upon it.

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.

Everyone who has run knows that its most important value is in removing tension and allowing a release from whatever other cares the day may bring.

If the Qur’an was the word of God, it had been dictated on a very bad day.

All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings. Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.