“Woman have been warriors since the beginning of time, some of us fighting to even be born.”

And in return for all the love i gave you, all you ever gave me was pain and heartbreak.

I’m sorry i can’t love in pieces, give me everything or nothing at all.

The moon is witness of all the nights I’ve spent waiting your return.

You say you don’t care but every time he gets hurt you feel the pain too.

A love so deep the ocean gets jealous.

Your thoughts were a prison and I? A helpless prisoner.

I believe, women are miraculous creatures. so compassionate yet carry the potential to bring you hell.

I hope you find someone, who pours love like rain during monsoon, onto all broken parts of you.

The world kept breaking you and here you are- still soft, still loving, how strong of you to maintain your magic in a world where everyone loses their essence.

I’m sorry love scares me, I’ve only seen it end in pain.

The pain keeps dripping down my eyes, but it never really stops hurting.

Even the stars cried when they wrote our fate, a love so deep yet we had to separate.

I stay kind, for the hurt in me knows, pain needs love to heal.

I am fire on the verge of ignition, don’t mistake me for a flame and then blame me for your destruction.

Self love is breaking your own heart to save your soul from shattering.

I know you are afraid to love again, but let the thrill of love be bigger than your fear of hurt.

Men are born soft and supple; dead, they are stiff and hard. Plants are born tender and pliant; dead, they are brittle and dry. Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death.

To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit. It stunts us and makes us less than we are and were born to be.

To live fully is to let go and die with each passing moment, and to be reborn in each new one.

Never allow any soul to clips your wings, you were born an ember. You were born a flame.

You are nothing but sheer miracles, born from ashes of women who have walked this earth before you.

Women and girls should be able to determine their own future, no matter where they’re born.

There never is absolute birth nor complete death, in the strict sense, consisting in the separation of the soul from the body. What we call births are developments and growths, while what we call deaths are envelopments and diminutions.

You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.