“I do not know if I will ever be complete, but I know whatever I am, You will always be the rest of me.”

There is more light than darkness, there has always been.

Photos I’m not in and memories we don’t share, haunt my lonely eyes.

I will never, ever believe in the words “too late” because it is never too late to be exactly who you wish, do exactly what you should, say exactly what needs to be heard, and live the exact life you should be living.

I care not about lost firsts, but I will fight, knuckles bloody and teeth sharpened, for your lasts.

Oh what we could be if we stopped carrying the remains of who we were.

Illusions must be out to death. That is the cruelty of growing up.

I Remember It, Precisely And Perfectly, The Birth Of This Love.

I love you, in ways you’ve never been loved, for reasons you’ve never been told, for longer than you think you deserved and with more than you will ever know existed inside me.

If I died tonight I think I would like to come back as your morning coffee. Just as strong and just as necessary.

Press your ear to my chest and listen where a heartbeat should sing you will hear the melancholy songs of tired whales.

Do broken pianos play broken songs? Do they have busted melodies for busted hearts? Is there a song living inside it that’s waiting to get out? Her keys are shattered and her notes long since silent but I can still hear her song. Just listen, just listen.

To live an honest, simple life, filled with creativity, joy, compassion, and a deeper, richer appreciation for the world around us.

I would imagine there are days when Superman wakes up, glances at his cape, and wonders when someone will come save him.

We carry in us all we could ever possibly need.

Be gentle, always delicate with every soul you meet, for every single morning you wake up, there is someone Wishing, silently and secretly, that they had not.

You have never had to steal my breath, or take it away, somehow you have always managed to convince me to hand it over freely.

For when we quaff the gen’rous bowl, Then sleep the sorrows of our soul. Let us drink the juice divine, The gift of Bacchus, god of wine. When I take wine, my cares go to rest.

because, you know, democracy has been “the worst of all political systems except for all the rest.”

There is no portion of money that is our money, and the rest God’s money.

There is no portion of our time that is our time, and the rest God’s.

Let me beg you, not to rest contented with the commonplace religion that is now so prevalent.

It was like losing an important weight-bearing bone, and I knew I would spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to walk the streets without it.

There, as a youth, your aptitude towards certain jobs is measured, and the rest of your life is dictated, whether you’ll be a fisherman or a farmer or an opera singer.

It’s a shame really because a couple days in Oklahoma will open your eyes to how much better it would be if the rest of the country was filled with a few more people from Oklahoma.