Love is wind for the soul

There are no lungs like the ones that breathe poetry.

The sky never falls with the rain. It is never weighed down by all that it carries. It takes all of its anchorsand turns them into stars. Learn from this.

Your flesh is not a reflection of your soul. So when you look in the mirror, remember that your light outshines your flaws.

I am in awe of flowers. Not because of their colors, but because even though they have dirt in their roots, they still grow. They still bloom.

What is the finding of love, but a voice answering a voice?

Life is so beautiful and so short that anything that makes me feel less than too much is nothing at all.

My heart's scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.

Take each day in your open palms and close your fists around it. This life is not done with you yet.

I want to celebrate the sadness that makes you feel everything so deeply. I want to throw a party for the wounds that make you so unabashedly human.

Before you step out into the world today, remember that you will encounter people whose struggles you do not know. Remember the way a pair of eyes light up when greeted with kindness.

Hardly anyone understands the principles behind magic, "scoffed Betony. "It's too difficult.

I knew in that moment that everything happens for a reason, but we can’t always know the reason when the journey begins. Some things we can only understand at the end of our journey.

The way to get a man interested and to hold his interest was to talk about himself, and then gradually lead the conversation around yourself—and keep it there.

I have a lot of plants and fish and a pet lizard and Venus flytraps. I have a whole ecosystem in my room, like a running waterfall and different lights and sensors set on digital timers.

Any civilized administration, however organized, prefers its own good to that of the people.

If it is hard to accept a rebuke, even a private one, it is harder still to administer one in loving humility.

Poetry -- even bad poetry -- may be our final hope.

I got Twitter like two months ago, checked it out a bit more, and I concluded the only thing Twitter I'm interested in following is Nick Stoller.

Where the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.

Melania Trump's husband tweeted this: "Cher, I don't wear a rug, it's mine, and I promise not to talk about your massive plastic surgeries that didn't work."