Art is to console those who are broken by life.

nevertheless,
you grow tired
and you start to forgive
just for the sake of
forgiving,
just to let go
of the hurt
and the fight
and to silence the voices in your head
that bring about the pain.

eventually
you’ll do anything
to silence the pain.

So goodnight my friend,

See you the next day we wake,

Just to repeat again.

The mind is beautiful because of the paradox. It uses itself to understand itself. 

“ the love i’ve known is the love of two people staring
not at each other, but in the same direction. ”

Needing someone doesn’t make you weak, it makes you feel. And feeling is how you know you’re alive.

“ Only trust someone who can see these three things in you: The sorrow behind your smile, the love behind your anger, and the reason behind your silence. ”

When you stopped wishing things wouldn’t fall apaprt, you’d stop suffering when they did.

I don’t miss him anymore. Most of the time, anyway. I want to. I wish I could but unfortunately, it’s true: time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. If you’re not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience… It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter.

You don’t get to choose who handles your heart. There are simply people who were born with it in their teeth. When you meet them, it is best to build a bomb shelter

Everything has changed and yet, I am more me than I’ve ever been.

…and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

He saved everything but he could not save himself.

Very early in my life it was too late.

There are some sorrows so heavy, they make people come undone.

Have you ever been in love with the idea of someone?

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while others were making ships.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time."

"The terrible things that happened to you didn’t make you you. You always were."

"Shut your eyes and see."

"I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt.

There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

…one day I’ll touch the world with bare hands
even if it burns

I can’t remember to forget you.

Memory is not frozen, it’s very much alive, it moves, it changes.

where do the words go
when we have said them?

He was like a song I’d heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.

I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it’ll make sense

i prefer the sound of your voice to anything,
anything i’ve ever known.

And then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the saddest smile I ever saw.

If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for. 

all the space without you in it, is empty.

You know, I think the people I feel saddest for are the ones who once knew what profoundness was, but who lost or became numb to the sensation of wonder, who felt their emotions floating away and just didn’t care. I guess that’s what’s scariest: not caring about the loss.