wallflower_jill

What a marvelous feeling it would be, if we could say exactly how we felt. What a monumental victory. What a terrifying thought.

Some things you can never leave behind. They don't belong to the past. They belong to you.

Why is time like that? Why does it slow down in the places you don’t want it to, but it speeds away when you’re happy?

“It is often said that before you die, your life passes before your eyes. It is, in fact, true. It’s called living.” – Terry Pratchett

I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.

We all need a friend who'll sit with us in silence when words won't work.

There is a crack in everything.

"I paint flowers so they will not die".

"Sometimes the greatest adventure is

He looked at her the way

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.

I was always an unusual girl.

Hands are unbearably beautiful. They hold on to things. They let things go.

Where would you be if you stopped letting your mind talk over your heart?

I'm content with the quite things, the soft times, and the gentle moments. I'm at peace in the rain, reading on a porch as the wind so gently blows by. I'm satiated by the way the leaves rustle, and the gentle dance of the branches. I'm contended by the little pieces of time in living.

I want life. I want to read it and write it and feel it and live it. I want, for as much of the time as possible in this blink-of-an-eye existence we have, to feel all that can be felt.

Sometimes just to say your own truth out loud is enough to find others like you.