“Spending time under the stars is never a waste of time.”

You’ll never be able to silence the woman who was born to write.

Be with someone who willingly runs in the storm with you, not someone who cowers away because of turbulent winds.

I would rather be free and lost than caged and found.

In love with September’s sun the season that begins all witchy things and stirs the soul.

It’s her black wings that make her beautiful.

I was born to chase peace and love wild things. I was born a beautiful bohemian paradox.

The world needs more fierce warriors who are soft and kind.

He is the sun melting the snow in my heart.

I know a beautiful soul when I feel one. The empath in me honors the authentic in you.

Once our souls collided and caught fire, there was no turning back.

She was the night, in love with the stars, always chasing the moon.

Words alone mean little. Show me your eyes; that’s where I’ll decipher your truth from your lies.

Undress my soul one petal at a time.

She can be dainty and still have claws. She can be sweet and still make fire. That’s her magic.

I think my soul was born with wings; it’s always restless, it won’t sit still.

When I told you to ruin me I wasn’t referring to my heart.

I don’t want to just be a teenage star. I want to be known by parents, and I want them to go, ‘Oh I love that song; he’s really good for his age. My daughter loves him, but I love him, too.’

A lot of people who are ‘social media’ stars aren’t considered to be ‘real’ stars, and people underestimate the amount of work it takes to edit and upload a video every single day and document your life like that.

I know that I am one with beauty and that my comrades are one. Let our souls be mountains, Let our spirits be stars, Let our hearts be worlds.

The night is wine and we’re the stars.

I can’t understand why Scholes has never won the player of the year award. He should have won it long ago. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t seek the limelight like some of the other ‘stars’.

As man draws nearer to the stars, why should he not also draw nearer to his neighbor?

Desperate for answers, I go searching in the stars. I ask them: on a scale of one to catastrophe, how beautiful would they say we are?

Travel through the stars with me in my nostalgic dream of summer nights, white wine, and sleeping under nature’s canopy.