Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and they're falling like they're falling in love with the ground.

I know this world is far from perfect. I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon. I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic. But every ocean has a shoreline and every shoreline has a tide that is constantly returning to wake the songbirds in our hands, to wake the music in our bones, to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river that has to run through the center of our hearts to find its way home.

Our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there. It’s that we ignore the ones who are.

Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.

The holy have done more damage to this world than the devil ever could.

I don't believe we're hateful. I think mostly we're just asleep, but the math adds up the same.

You can stand on the cliff of my heart and shout nothing but ‘ugly’ through me. I promise all I will echo back is ‘Beauty, beauty, you have always been beauty