“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.”

It happens suddenly. One day, your parents don’t pick you up any more.

Stop looking for people who only want your beauty and turn away your chaos and darkness.

I know how to live with a blade and teach it not to make me bleed.

I am trying to stop being the ashes that you left behind.

We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are.

Womanhood is rich with unlearning. How to unlearn the way you hate your body.

You have to choose between freedom and comfort. You choose freedom. Of course you choose freedom.

I am so hungry for someone to love me.

And often when she finds herself missing him, missing the good moments with him, she whispers to herself, ‘The absence of you has taught me how to love myself. So thank you, my darling, my dearest.

We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are, and if you could save all the people who accepted you completely, wouldn’t you go back to save them too?

Survival is ugly. Healing is messy. Self-love is complicated. It is your hardest days as much as your best days that help you grow. All of this is part of being human.

Knowledge after all is a dark art.

If two Gods can love each other with no objection from the divine or the universe, who are mortals to tell other mortals who they can and cannot love?

But I am both nightmare and sin.

If you think the value of a woman is only in the curve of her hips and the shape of her breasts, you do not understand how to read beneath her jagged lines, the sacred geometry that make up her glorious heart and her beautiful mind.

Lies are often truth-shaped. They’re only containers you must turn inside out and shake till the truth tumbles out, wide eyed and confused, blinking in a light it never thought it would see.

I wrote in my first book that I was broken, and now it just makes me mad every time. This is why writing words in books is so precarious. This is why Jesus only wrote in the sand, right? I just – I hate that I wrote that.

Family is supposed to be our safe haven. Very often, it’s the place where we find the deepest heartache.

So I’m putting my defenses up, cause I don’t wanna fall in love. If I ever did that. I think I’d have a heart attack.

Hearts can break and never make a sound.

I have been given eyes to see and a mind to think, and now I know a great secret of life, for I perceive, at last, that all my problems, discouragements , and heartaches are, in truth, great opportunities in disguise.

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

In broken states hearts sure do tell their best tales.

What’s lost, can be found. What’s broken, may be fixed. But what lives in denial of either of these will remain as it is.