“I know how to handle noise better than I can handle silence.”

We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

To heal you must forgive your heart, your skin, your body, all of their mistakes.

What I have spent in mourning is the price I have paid for my healing.

Even without him, you can bring down monsters. Believe me. You can still bring down monsters.

My Fairy Godmother is my heart sustaining me.

When I held her, I held her gently so that she always knew she could fly away and I would never harm her or clip her wings.

She’s a woman in love and is loved in return. That is a powerful thing.

The world is not allowed to make a meal of you, girl. It is there for your consuming.

You are permitted to be cruel sometimes, and you are allowed to fall apart, and feel every emotion they tell you not to feel.

I am more powerful than I am damaged and I will rise from any abyss you drown me in.

And she needs no prince or knight to save her, because her might is enough to tame dragons.

Survival is ugly. Healing is messy. Self-love is complicated.

So when they ask you what you weigh, you don’t need to look down at any scale. Instead, simply tell them the truth; tell them how you weigh whole universes and storms and scars and stories, too.

Before we had mouths or language or hope, we still had love. I know it’s not much. But my god, it’s beautiful and on so many days it is enough.

If a woman does not fit the shape of what you think a woman should, if a woman is not obedient, does not see things the way you do, if a woman is too independent to need anything more than herself, does she automatically become a threat filled with such terror to you?

It has taken me some time to learn that although karma exists, you can let your hatred go, not by destroying your own magic but by letting it grow.

For we can only know that we know nothing, and a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

The only history that matters is the history we know.

The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.

Some days I wake up and all I feel are the fractures in the flesh that covers the only me I’ve ever known.

Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don’t notice whether it’s passing quickly or slowly.

If I get to know somebody, I’ll open up, but other than that I like to sit back and observe things.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.