“Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.”

The rose is not everyone’s favorite flower, but that does not make it any less beautiful. There is a lesson for all of us in that.

There is a lightening in our bones and wildfire in our spirits and we will find a way despite it all to survive and thrive.

All my childhood heroes lived on the page. Now they live in me.

The absence of abuse does not automatically equal a healthy relationship. The absence of trauma does not automatically equal joy.

And I return home always. Because love’s call has always been stronger than the moon’s.

Love yourself loudly, dangerously, everywhere people have been afraid to love you, afraid to ask the way to cherish you, afraid to hold you. Love yourself most in these places, because who can be a better teacher to others in how to love you than yourself.

The bird building her home on your windowsill has every nest destroyed before. The spider that is delicately weaving a masterpiece has had every single thread broken before. And despite it all, they try again.

Girls who survive trauma do wear a certain vulnerability around them, but this kind of vulnerability is from where their greatest strength stems.

Forgive her for how her agony reveals itself, child. This is how blood magic works. Unconditional never meant perfect anyway.

Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours.

You have belonged better in your own arms than in anyone else’s. Remember you are the softest love you will ever have.

You need not fear the wolves you hide in your soul. They were made not to hurt you, but to protect you against this world.

Become fluent in the language of letting go. Learn to give people up before they hurt you beyond repair.

She didn’t just wait for someone to come and rescue her from her discontent and strife, instead she took matters into her own hands and empowered her own future, her own life.

There is an art in the emptiness of all natural things.

Maybe magic ends with me and it will never cross your path, but I want you to remember that survival is an art. The world is falsehood so you rely on your smarts.

Losing love is like a window in your heart.

No broken hearts, no broken necks.

Her smile can cure every heartache and pull a man out of depression – or atleast it did with me.

I’m not broken, I am just reshaping into something better, brighter, bolder.

I am so much more than another broken heart.

You are a heartbreak I’m willing to go through.

We don’t live in the Garden. We live far from Eden. Every life is full of heartaches. Every life, frankly, is unspeakably sad.

The heartbrokenness of the sinner is better than the forcefulness of the obedient