The thing I realize is, that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.

I remember running down a road on my way to a nursery of flowers. I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn't. I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.

The thing I realize is, that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.

The problem with people is they forget that most of the time it's the small things that count.

Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own - my words are gone.

It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting.

No more winter at all. Finch, you brought me spring.