I want the difficult stories, the ones that aren’t easy to believe, the twisted ones, the sorrowful ones, the ones that need telling most of all.
You can't choose your childhood, it's just what happens to you. But after that you choose. And that's really what (makes you).
In the great green room, there was a telephone And a red balloon And a picture of a cat jumping over the moon...
...it’s not just the person who fills a house, it’s their I’ll be back later!s, their toothbrushes and unused hats and coats, their belongingnesses.
Interesting fact from the front lines: raw grief smells like ripped leaves and splintered branches, a jagged green shriek.
It makes me feel so amazing to know there's people out here that support me and follow me on Twitter and watch my shows on YouTube and come to my concert, so I'm very thankful.
My thoughts are all over the place as I fall asleep, and images of clouded roses and angry green eyes flow through my dreams.
It takes a person of great care and insight to watch for any abnormality in the green grass even while it grows abundantly and healthily.
For as long as the world spins and the earth is green with new wood, she will lie in this box and not in my arms.
Nothing like an orange and olive green-striped couch sitting on orange carpet and surrounded by dark wood paneling to get the inspiration rolling.
Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem
Trying to explain or define grace is like catching the wind in a cardboard box or describing the color green.
In his early days at University, he'd been too green to realize winning debates, even private ones, would lose him friends.
Even among the ugliness of evil that resonated throughout the green hills and flowering landscape, Northbrook was simply breathtaking to those who took the time to appreciate it.
My love was green—new and alive. Her love was red—full stop. Occasionally and cautiously we’d meet in the middle at yellow.
I had never seen eyes like his. Dark green. Smoldering. Ready to undress a woman with a single glance.
And the needles of the pine trees, freshly washed to a deep, rich green, shimmered with droplets that blinked like clear crystals.
I wanted to live in a house with walls painted in various shades of blue and green, instead of the eggshell hue that screamed renter.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, and they shall live, and he in them still green.
Green grass breaks through snow, Artemis pleads for my help, I am so cool.
Do good though, will you?" She blinked brightly at the green girl. "If not for your parents or your grandmother, then for me?
