Human eyes are the sign language of the brain. If you watch them carefully, you can see the truth played out, raw and unguarded.
There is a string that connects us that is not visible to the eye. Maybe every person has more than one soul they are connected to, and all over the world there are those invisible strings... Maybe the chances that you'll find each and every one of your soul mates is slim. But sometimes you're lucky enough to stumble across one. And you feel a tug. And it's not so much a choice to love them though their flaws and through your differences, but rather you love them without even trying. You love their flaws.
I like pain. I like when it lingers. It reminds a person of what they've lived through.
There is more to loving someone than just making yourself happy. You have to want him to be happier than you are.
We are all so broken. Pick up a person, shake them around and you'll hear the rattling of their broken pieces. Pieces our fathers broke, or our mothers, or our friends, strangers, or our loves.
You'll be surprised what someone is able to handle given no other choice.
You can only give your heart away once, after that, everything else will chase your first love
One is a choice, and one is not.
Women hold all the power. They should use it like a whip, not offer it up like a sacrifice.
You couldn’t get rid of the past. You couldn’t ignore it, or bury it, or throw it over the balcony. You just had to learn to live beside it. It had to peacefully co exist with your present. If I could figure out how to do that, I could be okay.
When life kicks me, I kick it back.
You have to be willing to be happy. Despite the mess of your life-just accept what's happened, throw away your ideals, and create a new map of happiness to follow.
We are lovers, fear and I. She calls to me, and I let her in.
Broken people give broken love. And we are all a little broken. You just have to forgive and sew up the wounds love delivers, and move on.
Maybe lifting someone else’s weight makes yours a little more bearable
That's why writers write—to say things loudly with ink. To give feet to thoughts; to make quiet, still feelings loudly heard.
Life balances itself on a precarious ledge, we can stay safe up high or propel off the edge.
People lie. They use you and they lie, all the while feeding you bullshit about being loyal and never leaving you. No one can make that promise, because life is all about seasons, and seasons change.
I had now officially secured my front row seat on the train to Hell. Choo choo
A man is only as good as what he loves most, right?
Love is illogical. You fall into it like a manhole. Then you're just stuck. You die in love more than you live in love.
I’ve been all three. And now I’m undecided.
You never quite stop loving someone when you're in that deep.
I have finally accepted that there are consequences to every action. I earned them and they are rightfully mine. There is no time to make bad decisions. Every step is precious. The definition of living is mine.
The sum of all the things we shouldn't have done in our lives is enough to kill us with the weight.
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