“Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.”

You can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.

There is a big confusion in this country over what we want verses what we need you need food. You want a chocolate sundae.

When you’re rotten about yourself, you become rotten to everyone else, even those you love.

Death is the end of a lifetime, not the end of a relationship.

Ends are for yesterday, not tomorrows.

Because one thing God gave us- and I’m afraid it’s at times a little too much- is freewill. Freedom to choose. I believe he gave us everything needed to build a beautiful world, if we choose wisely.

She loved me coming and going, at my worst and at my best. She had a bottomless well of love for me.

Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.

No life is a waste. The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we’re alone.

Each affects the other, and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.

I give myself a good cry if I need it. But then I concentrate on the good things still in my life. I don’t allow myself any more self-pity than that. A little each every morning, a few tears, and that’s all.

Once heaven is done with grandma, we’d like her back, thanks.

But fates are connected in ways we don’t understand.

When someone is in your heart, they’re never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.

When you come to the end, that’s where God begins.

Heaven is always and forever around us and no soul remembered is ever really gone.

All those years now mean nothing besides lessons and memories. Eventually they’ll fade, you’ll fade, and the scars that once haunted me will be mere trophies of my resilience.

Night falls, and the wounds we try to pretend we don’t have begin to haunt us.

The hungry and the haunted explode in a rock’n’roll band.

Sometimes, I don’t know what haunts me more – the memories of you, or the happy person I used to be.

Any pride or haughtiness, is displeasing to us, merely because it shocks our own pride, and leads us by sympathy into comparison, which causes the disagreeable passion of humility.

Your power, undermined, your strength, underrated, your shine, hauntingly bright.

He treated her like a ghost, not wonder her memory haunted him long after she was gone.

Stop giving your infant heart/ wrapped in blind vows/ white lies/ and a haunted past/ stop asking for love/ if you don’t know how to give any/ stop hurting others/ stop it/ stop it/ just fucking stop it.