I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love.

When everything is lonely I can be my best friend.

No lies, just love.

Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness.

I like to feel the burn of the audience’s eyes when I’m whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone.

We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul.

Screaming is bad for the voice, but it’s good for the heart.

I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love.

I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.

Love’s an excuse to get hurt.

If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on the wall, I think we’d see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.

Why are you scared to dream of god when it’s salvation that you want?

There’s all body types, but there’s just one size.

They say it’s better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to wake from its sleep and burst into green.

I know a girl who cries when she practices violin because each note sounds so pure it just cuts into her, and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes. Now, to me, everything else just sounds like a lie.

Let the poets cry themselves to sleep, and all their tearful words will turn back into steam.