𝓓𝓮𝓮𝓿𝓲𝔂

Sultana argues that men are naturally stronger. Sara counters this with the "lion" analogy: a lion is stronger than a man, but brainpower allows humanity to dominate.

"I would break myself a thousand times just to be loved by you"

somebody's son doing something to you when?

someone’s gorgeous daughter got me smiling at nothing

someone's beautiful daughter is healing me

Hands hold and let go. Hands touch and let go. Hands are and are not— mine or someone else's?

I cannot forget the moments that hurt me, but I can, so very easily, forget the things that made me happy Why does pain weigh more than love and yet, how does love have the power to overcome pain?

The monstrosity of my shame is collapsing in my chest filling up my lungs with dust of the past and I'm choking on my failures There's only regret in the debris and I'm breaking underneath the expectations, stipulations, plans all going down to rubbish I do make it a point to tell myself to practice gratitude but gratitude requires me find something good and finding something good requires honesty my god, in all honesty, I am no good

Oh, to have love that feels like like butterflies on a Sunday morning like a cozy blanket on a winter afternoon like your favourite music on a rainy evening like moon on a dark night

I want my lover to like a fountain of emotions not a bottle of them

There's a giant bird caught in my throat  scratching, fluttering to let go to let it breathe, scream, release  It's a dangerous, dangerous bird whispering all things that should be left unsaid  these things...they reach both my ears then burrow in my head If I set it free, then what's left of me? If I set it free, will I be left? Will I be left? Will I be empty? If I let this bird go, then what's left of me? There's a giant bird beating in my chest hungry for a decay of love All it likes is to eat, feed, destroy It's a vicious, vicious bird screeching all things that shouldn't be heard I cannot let these things reach anyone's ear but what If I set it free, then what's left of me? If I set it free, will I be left? Will I be left? Will I be empty? If I let this bird go, then what's left of me? Feeding on feeling of hands of other on my lover Reaching and searching for death of dreamer in the summer, of every good thing that is about to flow like a river The vulture keeps aching for decay of love, death of lover If I set this bird free, will I be left? Will I be loved?

Art is a reminder of the memory of a person you connected it with, of a moment you wanted to freeze in time. But when that memory starts hurting you, you need to detach that person and that memory from the art, and set it free—for both yourself and the art.

Gods and mortals are alike if you notice All a god wants is to be remembered A mortal will say 'Remember I was here' All a god wants is to be believed in A mortal will say 'I am. I am. I am.' The only difference is power and mortallity