Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.
Fall in love with someone who tastes like adventure but looks like the calm, beautiful morning after a terrible storm
Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea.
I hope you find someone who knows how to love you when you are sad.
The monsters were never under my bed. Because the monsters were inside my head. I fear no monsters, for no monsters I see. Because all this time the monster has been me.
You must understand: they fear you. There is nothing scarier in their minds than a girl who knows the power of her flames.
People aren't born sad; we make them that way.
Those freckles make you seem like a galaxy of stars, just waiting to be explored and loved.
We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.
She is alone. And oh how brilliantly she shines.
We are the blood of the witches you thought were dead. We carry witchcraft in our bones whilst magic still sings inside out heads. When the witch hunters imprisoned out ancestors when they tried to burn the magic away. Someone should have warned them that magic cannot be tamed. Because you cannot burn away what has always been aflame.
I am the girl who spends hours huddled in a corner of a library, trying to find what you love the most about Marlowe, just so I can write you a poem worthy of Shakespeare. I've made books my lovers, hours my enemies and you the only story.
The saddest word in the whole wide world is the word almost. He was almost in love. She was almost good for him. He almost stopped her. She almost waited. He almost lived. They almost made it.
The thing I admire most about you is no matter how hard, or how much the world has tried to beat you, break you, destroy you, and throw you to the wolves you are still here, turning all your pain all your suffering into armor, into determination, into weapons and earning the respect of that same pack of wolves that were meant to rip you limb from limb.
Don't let a king or a prince or a fairytale tell you you are smaller than that or who you are meant to be.
That sadness that you do not speak of, that haunts you in the ache of midnight. Give it to me. I want to heal that.
You fell in love with a storm. Did you really think you would get out unscathed?
You are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets.