“There is a spell for almost anything and if there’s not a spell, there is at least a poem.”

When no one aids you, you build your own legs.

You can strive to be perfect. Or you can strive to be art.

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.

I’ve been on a real Credence Clearwater kick. I’ve been collecting their albums on CD — right now I really like ‘I Put a Spell on You.’ I don’t know who actually wrote it; it might be a traditional, or like, an old blues song,

Books are not seldom talismans and spells.

I want every day to be the most boring news day ever. I want every day to be about spelling bee champions and baby basketball. It’s better to have no comedy material than a horrific news day.

I’ll only retire in the day I should be dead and they have me buried, and some idiot spell over my casket some stupid gospel stuff.

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.

Retire? I can’t spell the word. I’d play in a wheelchair.

Noble hearts are neither jealous nor afraid because jealousy spells doubt and fear spells pettiness.

I see things written in the sky, Spelled out in plain and ordinary ways, even the unpoetic becomes magic when read next to you.