“You are a dangerous collection of all my favorite things. An old soul, a heart of gold, and hands that make my body sing.”

Sometimes all it takes to help someone survive anything brutal are those six words: ‘None of it was your fault.

There are three versions of you. The one that smiles and laughs with others, the one that hides and cries alone, and the one that has the ability to achieve greatness.

In human beings, a black hole is spending your energy loving someone who takes all of your love and gives back nothing in return.

The truth is, any hardship is bearable if you have someone to share it.

A shadow is just a shadow until it starts to scare you.

All children are born equally innocent, but all children are not born equally loved.

How your voice tremors when you speak of loneliness.

The old gods may be ash and bone now, but in us they rise anew.

No one told me love could be a God of both living and dying. That girls who love girls do not just drown, they also float.

What if I told you your damage doesn’t define you and the way you survive is no one’s damned business?

There is an old saying that when you meet your soulmate, your heart will not palpitate. Your body will not grow hot. Instead, you will feel like suddenly, you understand everything, and the tranquility of a thousand moons will grow between you. That was how she felt when she saw him.

Nothing makes her want to be less adventurous or give up her eternal search for something to quench her wanderlust.

All the darkness of the night is no match for a single candle that refuses to die out.

She is alone, and oh how brilliantly she shines.

But I was brutal and violent in a way they tell women not to be.

Did the girl choose magic, or does magic choose the girl?

I went to collect the few personal belongings which. I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.

A pretty little collection of weaknesses and a terror of spiders are our indispensable stock-in-trade with the men.

I have my little antique car collection, and when the weather is pretty I like to get out one of my old cars.

We may have made one of the biggest and most stupid collective mistakes in history by getting so worried about global warming.

A collection of errors does not make a truth: quality cannot stem from quantity – a value is not a weight.

We must leave the entire collection of conditioned thought behind and let ourselves be led by the inner thread of silence into the unknown, beyond where all paths end, to that place where we go innocently or not at all, not once but continually.

When people throw stones at you, don’t throw them back. Collect them all and build an empire.

Whatever is unnamed, undepicted in images, whatever is omitted from biography, censored in collections of letters, whatever is misnamed as something else.