I am sorry for wounding you with my sharp edges before taking pain to refine and mend yourself.
YOHAN ACOSTAHow would I know if he’s going to be a good husband or not? Watch closely how he treats his mother.
More Yohan Acosta Quotes
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Why fight against the current if I would only drown in it?
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Don’t go out dating others just because you feel empty or because you want to feel alive. You do it for the right reason.
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We forget that our parents were children, too. Let’s get to know them as little ones. Perhaps we’ll find the answer why they behave now the way they do.
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You are the phoenix that must first burn before rising from your own ruin.
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Thank you for still being there for yourself. For being strong. For being resilient. Keep going.
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When the dust has settled, turn off the revving, restless engine inside you.
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What a sight of storm you are as a lie beside me in your deep, peaceful slumber.
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You cannot always get the validation from others, even from the people you love.
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And then when you are ready, take off your armor and show me your scars.
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May I stay soft and delicate in this world meant to draw out the brute in me.
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Go where you are celebrated, somewhere where the sun you carry in you will be seen and fully embraced by those who recognize it.
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I will not allow myself to lose the child in me.
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Your tongue is too powerful that it can make a garden out of me. And it can also shred and tear apart the flowers within.
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Let those lovers come to you healed. They are not your project to fix.
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Keep your heart open. That someone is going to find you.
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When you master the art of being alone, darling you are indestructible.
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Its neither politics or religion. Music is the universal love language.
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Love, grief, and the complexity of being human are the driving forces for every artistic revolution.
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I am powerless in silencing the deafening thunder in my heart.
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How would I know if he’s going to be a good husband or not? Watch closely how he treats his mother.
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The deeper the pain that you have gone through, the more compassion you are capable of feeling.
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I am a moth madly captivated by the fire in you.
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But dear, even dandelions are viewed as weeds in a rose garden.
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Read me gently and unhurriedly. Please. My pages crumble at your slightest touch.
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Your faults are your wounds. And I don’t feel any anger at all. What I feel, is compassion.
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There is magic to be found on the road less traveled.
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