Truth and integrity must be so rare these days that it confuses people when they hear it.

There is the purity of love, harmonious in every way, but not meant for a lifetime, and then there is the steady love of commitment - no less real but completely different. She had both.

Darling, if I take your breath away, I will give you mine.

Underneath the sky, so void of light, the rain soaked me through. I held on to the railing and felt calm, even content, and then he had to reach through the dark, raise my temperature and make my heart beat a little bit faster. Not very gallant I should say...especially so close to bedtime. Friend or not, should he rob me of sleep, I'll be sure to take his.

I think anyone who opened their heart enough to love without restraint and subsequently were devastated by loss knows that in that moment you are forever changed; a apart of you is no longer whole. Some will never again love with that level of abandon where life is perceived as innocent and the threat of loss seems implausible. Love and loss, therefore, are linked.

We love because we can lose. If there was no threat of separation, no death to shake us to our core, we probably wouldn't love much at all.

Connecting with someone is not necessarily a bond with a significant other, or even a friend, but can be the indefinable - perhaps the rarest and most precious thing in life to find at all.

I thought I would prefer apathy over this," I confided to her. "Why?" she asked. "Are you saying you would rather be cold than comforted? He's looking at you and offering his hand in friendship and you're rudely looking away pretending not to notice. At least with him you wouldn't be so alone." I felt my eyes turn into colorless pools as I glared at her for stating the obvious. "Being numb to someone is better than feeling something," I explained. "Safer you mean," she interrupted. I sighed and continued, "When someone who was once significant in your life comes back after an extended absence, emotions you had finally freed yourself from are reawakened, and if that's not enough to contend with, dormant memories are summoned whether you want them to be or not." "And what is it that you want?" she posed triumphantly. I swallowed my anger and thought with defeat, "Nothing anyone can give me.

Even "meant to be" takes work.

People change us. It is a rare, if not an impossible occurrence, that we come out of relationships unscathed. In our dealings with people we take something with us and we leave something behind. Some people are haunted more than others, either by the sweet perfume of another or the stink of regret.

There was once a spirited feral mustang broken in by her stern rider. It was a harmonious relationship for the most part but, like any relationship, she tested the boundaries he placed on her and threw him...Would the rider, having suffered his own wound, retaliate, discipline or forgive?

I'd rather be befriended as an aimless lost soul than be befriended for adornment, gain or goal.

Am I a friend or a prospect? Imagine how much kinder life would be if people put as much effort into befriending others instead of trying to sell them something.

It's way too easy to see the real face of a person. They're amiable and full of pretense when they want something from you, but the minute you don't give in, back away or put yourself first (like they do) is the minute they show you who they really are.

No, we aren't civilized, even in our business suits and high heels. People are as mean as ever, and as predictable. Underneath it all, we are not so different from what lurks in the wild, perhaps we're worse.

Where are the memories that held us together? Where are the dreams that were yet to come? I'm afraid to be happy. I shouldn't be happy. If I'm happy without you does that mean I've told you goodbye?

One of the disadvantages to having a choice is the inevitability to hang oneself on freedoms rope.

The most beautiful women I have known had one thing in common apart from beauty: humility. It's a shame that those with less to boast about do it the most.

I wonder if pain comes from surrendering or resisting?

Bravery is the ability to endure, even unto death, all types of terrible, terrifying and painful situations and we live in a time when people do all that they can to avoid hardship and pain, never realizing that strength and courage is found in both.

The empath helps others by absorbing some of their pain, but who helps the empath?

I think part of your attraction to him is the draw of the unknown, of being different, even special. He is so out of the ordinary that you feel pulled to that because you yourself are not so ordinary. You're alone. And sometimes the pain of so much loss is written across your face. You wear it like an adornment and that causes other people to wonder about you; they can't relate to you and what you've been through, but you can relate to him in his dark state.

Affliction equips the suffering to empathize with others in anguish and not only does it strengthen them, it enables them to be consoling comforters in a world full of hurt.

How much pain a person detains may be proportionate to the pain they spare others when they'd rather hurt than hurt another.

You can't be in my world...You live in this one.

Some families are an odd melting pot of strangers with the occasional offering of obligation.

You don't build a family by tearing down another one.

I can't help it. You bring it out in me," he accused. "No," I said. "You're choosing to let me get to you. Don't. It's all in the mind.

Power, a paycheck and control do sick things to those who have the illusion of possessing it.

I have a deep appreciation for anything that challenges my morality. I tend to wonder which thing or person might overpower my beliefs and would I avoid it altogether in order to say, "It didn't conquer me," or would I accept the challenge head-on in an attempt to prevail? Which requires greater courage?

We deny more than we confess. We hide more than we reveal. We assume because it makes us feel exposed if we have to ask. It's easier to say "I feel nothing" than to admit "I feel something." It takes no courage to say, "I hate you" but it takes a great deal of moxie to declare its opposite. Masks are elaborate and everyone has one. It takes a while to get to know people. This doesn't make them special, it makes them like everyone else. Sometimes our hearts scream yes while our heads say run; and only one can be obeyed.

Have you seen what wolves do to their prey? But they do mate for life.

If its danger you seek, come on over. I covet tranquility but beget the tempest storm.

Some people confuse intensity for passion and challenge for attraction.

Grab tightly to the reigns of passion and ride into glory for without it life would be stagnant and you would be a spirit without cause.

I love men. I also hate men; I wouldn't want to be in a world without them but I have to say, it's not a compliment to know a man wants to sleep with you. It's only a compliment when he will go to great lengths for you.

You're flattered because he wants to sleep with you? Who doesn't he want to sleep with?

Joy – in the fall, winter, and always in the mountains where people are few, wildlife is abundant and there is peace in the quiet.

People like us are dead to society unless we’re pretentious, tell people what they want to hear, take off our clothes, or pretend to be like them.

Society nowadays tells people that their happiness is all that matters but happiness is never found if it costs someone else’s theirs. That is not what happiness is, nor would such a person deserve it, because happiness is forged by the setting aside of self and in doing for others to make them happy first and foremost, so if you have to hurt another human being to “find your happiness,” then you have no clue what the word actually means or what it’s willing to do, and in being so self-centered and entitled, it’s veritably tragic that the only care and concern you have is for yourself.

One woman's definition of success may not be another's. Is success, as the world defines it, an accomplishment in a society this sick?

He studied the woman before him, not as lovely as she once was, ordinary in appearance, scarred by living, abandoned by many, breathtakingly to be near and altogether unforgettable. "I have no friends," she spoke forth hauntingly. "I am alone." He couldn't believe it. But then he could for the rare creature near enough to touch was out of their league. She wasn't envied for the shallowness of appearance or the superficiality of status or possessions; she was envied for being uncommon and for possessing indomitable strength, something only a lifetime of suffering could shape.

For those who have learned what suffering is early on, you have prepared ahead of the pack so that you can take care of the pack.

Her scar tissue, which she seems to amass both physically and mentally, may not be pretty, but they have become tougher than if she had never been wounded at all.

Only strong women, and they seem to be rare, can handle a frank and direct woman who doesn't sweet-talk or need others to nerve her. You can identify the easily intimidated because they need a gaggle of like-minded clones to back them up when they feign offense, which is merely a guise for their insecurity.

In a fit of anger he had said to her, "You'll always be miserable," to which she thoughtfully replied, "Is that so? It's impossible to be miserable when you've known tragedy and hardship. Both strengthen and refine a person to the point where they may have moments of grief and sadness, but misery is known only to those who have a sense of entitlement...you know, people like you.

I don't admire the person who hides from the world and claims enlightenment. To be purified you have to be tested and there is no better test of strength than dealing with other people.

We start our sometimes tedious, sometimes exciting, often times sad and stressful march to the grave the moment we're born, so it might as well be a march worth remembering.

What have I to prove, and to whom, and why? I'm keen enough to want nothing more than to live a simple, humble, unfettered life.

Powerful words that penetrate the psyche are not forgotten while silence is.

It's hard to part the curtains when the dark holds such familiarity.

The people you think are the happiest are usually the saddest; that's because they see more and feel deeper than others do. They are the sensitive and they see beyond the veil of what's tangible and what's not. They wear no masks and can see through the masks of others. The sensitive to life are few in number, which is why they feel so alone...because they are all alone.

I smile when I want to cry. I laugh when I want to die.

Regret is her companion and the one who whispers to her often. She has even let hope die and that brings about despair.

The only time she has anything resembling a life is when she sleeps because when she sleeps she can dream.

Strangers were a fairytale full of possibilities not yet corrupted by reality while caregivers were the reality – and everything that couldn't be counted upon.

A relationship, of any kind, requires two. Some people want it all and expect it all, always looking outward, so often saying what they deserve, even more saying what they want, and all thinking another should provide it for them, but do they ever bother to be the person they think someone else would love to have? Perhaps, in order to get that better love, extend it first.

If there had once been a chance and there had once been love, then it will still be there in spite of time and obstacles. If you can get past that, you can get past a lot.

While it is good to apologize and ask forgiveness from God, it’s just as important (perhaps more so) to extend it towards the person you wronged. Becoming a better person or trying to make amends with the universe only works when you start with the one you owe it to.

Don't focus on her hiss. Remember her purr.

When he called she tried not to break down, but voice so often betrays emotion and her's wept, "He looked happy, even if I had to see his sweet little face from far away. I want him to be happy...even if his happiness is not with me.""That's love," he said."Love," she repeated. "We love because we can lose."There is pain when we have to step away and some may say "You don't care," but little do they know, we cared enough to do so...

Sometimes, oftentimes, people hold on to someone they love for self – because it's what they want; in rare cases, a person, who sincerely knows the meaning of love, which is sacrifice, loves enough to say goodbye and to walk away. They do it because they love someone enough to allow them to move on without them or to not be torn in multiple directions, which causes confusion, or because they feel that is their only choice.Loving like that is doing for another and denying self. It is sacrifice.It takes tremendous strength and the cost is loss and heart-ache but it's a price the rare are willing to pay because they truly love that much.

While struggling with all the loss in her life, she mournfully thought, "If only I could forget..." But that would be too easy, wouldn't it? However, she did with most; she never got too close and she never stayed too long, but there she was...struggling with all the loss in her life.

I always welcomed the comforting cloak of night except for the times when I lost something in it.

He passed through her with his soul caressing hers goodbye. And in that final hour he was with her one last time.

I saw her tonight. I didn’t mean to and I wasn’t prepared for it.I came across her sweet smiling face and I had no choice but to be confronted with all the emotions and memories I associated with her.It brought me back to this past summer when she passed from this world into the next and how I watched the minutes in the day pass and felt the sorrow of the approaching sunset knowing that darkness would soon follow.There is something profound about the first night after someone you love dies.Seeing her again and mourning the loss of her anew reminded me that we keep too much to ourselves and we let people go without them ever knowing how much they touched us, intrigued us, taught us, or moved us.I’m a firm believer in actions doing the telling, but people need to hear it as well.

He wept bitter tears over the death of his enemy. It was his enemy, after all, who knew him best and kept him up at night.

It is easy, and therefore uninspiring, to love within the norms of acceptance and society. Other than ones own heart, there is no great risk involved; it's all very status quo. The same is tired, but what's outside-the-norm is captivating and gets under people’s skin, pushing their buttons, making them think and revealing their depth as a person, or their lack thereof. It's love against obstacles that inspires the most – a love that faces and ultimately endures through challenges, hardship and ridicule that is courageous and triumphant.

You're sad but you hold everything back...

If they were there for you when you had nothing, they are the ones worth having now. If they only notice you because of what you have gained, are they worth having at all?

I’d love to have the kind of friend who would visit me before visiting a man. Otherwise I know where I’m ranked, which is below him.

Who knows you more...your friend or your enemy? It's your enemy that pursues with passion while your friend engages at leisure.

Enemies are the people who think about you more than your friends do.

Some men like shiny new toys. Others like the priceless antique.

I challenge a man to a duel before allowing him near me, and then I take an arrow, dip it in poison, and drive it straight through his heart...But that's on a good day...when I purr and feel delightfully amorous. No need to mention what I'd do on a bad one.

You may want the alpha, but the alpha has his pick.

When it comes to men, I appreciate them, don’t bash them and never love them.

Never go to another woman about your woman. Not unless you want an insidious form of advice.

I'm impressed when men go the distance to show they give a damn. That says nothing about the woman and everything about the man.

I'd rather know a man's sincerity than his love. Whereas I have never needed the latter, one can always count on the former.

She used to wander through the past as often as it beckoned her, bemoaning the loss of nostalgia. Then, for a while, she turned from it, blissfully free of its noxious clutch, and now it's back, taunting her with what she left behind, knowing she can never recapture what's gone.

He was on her mind but she doesn't let anyone stay for too long.

I didn't sleep well last night because one of my ghosts came back, haunting with his presence, and when I woke up, the others weren't here, haunting with their memory.

The air is cold and dusk has descended. In the distance lightning flickers and a far away rumble of thunder awakens my thoughts and makes me remember.

Of course she wants him to forget her. The last place she wants to reside is in his thoughts. What an unpleasant place to be.

Someone once said that love is the closest thing to magic that this world has, but magic enchants, deceives and casts a spell.

She’s a sickness in my head.”Then get well.What you feel is self-made and attended to over time. You want to let go but are unwilling to let go because you are getting something from it; An escape? An excuse? Bondage?You are idealizing another person, building up the idea of them, and making them a legend in your own mind.Is it really a sickness or something you can control?The question is: do you even want to?Each time a thought creeps into your mind, you choose whether to give it freedom to remain or to wander. You can rebuke it or replace it. After all, it’s your mind.

A gem, like you, is made beautiful by being polished. It's not an easy undertaking, but a stone that exists undisturbed among others just is...but the most beautiful stand out because they face being alone, endure hardships and learn from what challenges them. Suffering purifies and makes beautiful, but only if the gem can shine.

Life is for the loved, not the lonely." She lamented. "Although it's the lonely who try to make the world and its inhabitants less so.

She walked in somber seclusion, unable to connect with women despite her heart's desire to do so while being shadowed by men who hungered for the indefinable; and while she yearned for friendship, they yearned for something more and what she had been in search of remained removed from her, and the more she erected barriers, the more they crossed them and each time they did, she turned from them and hid.

There are those that wonder which is worse: Not being able to reach out or not having anyone to reach for. There are some that ponder which is the greater ache: Not being able to tell or not having anyone that cares enough to ask. Perhaps it’s not one person that is to blame, but both.

Dark hair on a white pillow, an ache inside, his face a reflection in her eye.

She doesn't give directions but there is a pot of gold at the end of her rainbow...Find it. If you can.

When other girls were dreaming about love, she dreamt of love too, but in an entirely different context - the ones they took for granted.

As long as you write, you'll never be lonely.

Leaving the familiar for unknown terrain is like a death - and feeling this level of finality should snap one back to life for life has greater meaning in the face of death.

I shall not be defined by what I have suffered but how I have endured them.

He had felt viable being near her or knowing she was listening to him or having the comfort of their casual meeting within a dream. With her, he simply and effortlessly felt better. They all felt better, unburdened, cared for, and heard. Being connected to her eased his suffering as he gave her his. It was only when she began to drown in the cumulation of commingled torments that to save whatever part of her was left, she disconnected, and when she did, his suffering returned and remained with him longer than she had. But instead of saving herself, it was the additional burden of her own anguish from letting them all go that took her breath and inevitably pulled her under.

People, most especially those who have known ease in this life, care more about being prospered than refined. It's always about what they can get from God, not what they can do for others, unless they can call attention to it for others to see.

Suffer" he commanded seductively. "With me...or because of me.

For those who praise God and say “God is good,” or, ‘I’m so blessed,” when you get what YOU want, try praising Him and saying, “God is good,” and “I’m so blessed,” when you’re suffering. To do the first is effortless. The masses do it, that's how easy it is. To do the latter requires something greater: strength, faith and gratitude - no matter the ouch involved.

If someone calls you a failure it's more than likely they feel like one.

She was asked, “What do you see in him?”Taken aback, she replied, “What does he see in me?”Others too wondered why she chose him – not as handsome as the others, not one with a lot of possessions or even status, but little did they know, as little minds go, that she chose the one who wanted her most.

There's the good girl leading a charmed life who secretly covets to be the rare and elusive femme fatale and the femme fatale who yearns to be good and then there is their nemesis - men who dream and desire both.

Known for leaving, she asked me who I would consider sticking around for. I said, "The one who asked me to and meant it.

There is enchantment in wondering...in seeing a beautiful portrait every now and then rather than an overabundance of the overexposed; I wanted the figure before me to remain a magnificent mystery, like any alluring woman is as the rarity of a thing is what makes it valuable, even an enigma, and when something or someone is that, they become captivating.

A burdened heart doesn't equate to a lack of faith. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob can heal with a simple command. The burden comes from wondering if that's His will and may it be done.

Nocturnal with a love for night, I'd stay up to see sunlight...

Some writers are born. Others learn. I was born a writer but have a lot to learn.

Three kinds of people get talked about: The fascinating, the freaks and the nefarious.

Who hasn't been told "love you?" I don't put much stock in such words because it's the "I" that gives "love you" its true essence and intimate meaning, so unless someone can bring themselves to say "I love you," don't subtract from the significance by saying something less.

Fighting is easier than loving, just as giving in to anger is easier than self-control.

Anger met with anger only increases enmity rather than diffusing a tense situation. Anger, in turn, gives birth to hate. In such cases the wisest thing to do is not to engage through emotion. Emotions are self-centered and denying them spares animosity.

When someone attempts to insult you know that they are inadvertently giving away what would insult them.

Is it me you're describing, or yourself?

Intense feelings of any kind keep people with you. Some you may want, others you won't. To forget people, and you never really forget, feel indifference.

The worst feeling when speaking with someone or receiving a gift from them is knowing they feel obligated to.

Emotions have cycles whereas love endures. Some people confuse emotions, which are ever-changing, with love's durability.

Emotions enthrall, but change, and as such have the ability to disrupt and destroy.

Why do people assume? If I hate you, I'll tell you. In this case, it's not hate. It's hurt. I'll lick my wounds, which only oozed because I gave a damn, and be over it before the sun rises.

Hate. The word is thrown around as uselessly and as often as love is, and is used as a means in which to accuse and inflict damage; the weak-in-argument (weak in general) use it to discredit those with whom they disagree rather than dissect the issues for what they really are. I liken it to the predictable ad hominem attack, which is about as transparent as those who so ridiculously claim to know what’s in the heart of another.

It's not that I am "above" feeling hatred. It's that I make the choice whether to yield to it or not. Hatred keeps a person with you, and the last thing I want with me in my thoughts is someone who doesn't deserve to be there.

Do you keep silent to keep a friendship or do you try to lend your support unconditionally, even if what they are doing goes against everything you believe in? Will it be principles over friendship, morality over love?

It seems that the people who come into our lives and stay for the briefest amount of time have the greatest impact upon us. Time may change some things, but not all things. Each day brings me closer to him, and the age in which he passed from this world into the next, but I still fight the urge, on rare occasions, to pick up the phone and dial his number, which I still remember. It's decades later, but that last meal we shared, laughing and smiling at each other from across the table, lost in harmony, seems but yesterday. Then there was the last lingering look and the final wave goodbye.

I am sick of old ghosts and I just want to feel safe again without the haunts of old vulnerabilities.

In our lives are special moments that live as their own, the rest is movement with the passage of time.

Fortuitous, unexpected beauty is the best beauty because it is unique, and what is unique is remembered.

When you stand next to beauty and know you’re not, you either feel inferior or you’re thankful for the ones who saw you and loved you anyway.

Straightforwardness intimidates people. They prefer the veneer, despite what they claim.

Can I be trusted? Can you? I can be trusted with some things, but not all things, just like you.

Reassuring a jealous woman that you don't want her man creates the bigger beast of resentment because that tells her that what she has isn't desirable and to her, where the opinions of others correlates to her self-worth, is unforgivable.

I don't make people comfortable but that's what couches are for.

Lovers are easy to find and easy to forget but finding an authentic connection is exceptional and limited. It rarely happens, which is why there are so many unhappy people out there.

Don't allow someone not worth it to have the power to occupy your thoughts. If they don't find you worth the effort or the time, why should you waste yours?

Oh yes, even I cry. Just not over you. Who is "you?" The one who has to ask or the one who doesn't?

If I blink she'll disappear," he told her. She looked at him and said,"Maybe that is the best thing for you.

I'd rather meander through a pit of vipers than love one more person, but since I'm on the subject of snakes, we all know one, or are one.

Has it tortured you as much as it's tortured me?" He asked. "Don't call it torture when it's self-inflicted. You always have a choice.

What was I to you?" he asked. She didn't answer but turned and walked away. That's when he knew: Nothing or everything.

Why do you think you deserve happily ever after? You were offered it before and tossed it away.

She had hope in her heart but after a while, with each step forward, hope stepped back. And for the first time in months, the first time ever, she began to weep, and as she did she knew that with the retreat of hope her heart had finally caught up with her head. And as each tear spilled over she let them go, she was letting go.

Just following orders' is no excuse unless you're in the bedroom.

I’m thinking of the protector who wants to be protected and a fighter who loves the right battle but will lay down her arms to go on a quest.

Some things you sentence yourself to life for.

Be careful how you live. Someone is always watching and will look to you as an example, an excuse, or a warning. The message some choices send is why struggle to do the right thing when you can do the wrong thing and be happy. Should we be happy or should we be right?

You can never let your compassion stand in the way of justice because when you do, other people get hurt.

It's easy to be a saint when all you've known is the good.

She didn't care about anything, or maybe she cared too much.

If you're nice, decent, attractive, get good grades and are talented, no one wants to read about that...They want to read what's out-of-the-ordinary, the scandalous, the shocking and the tragic. They want a story; they want to be captivated and what's typical does not give them that...unless, of course, that person ends up a victim, commits a crime or loses their minds via a love affair.

Heart thoughts are profound, hindsight aches and hope is obscure. I'm craving a great adventure -- one that leads me back home.

If you are without contention and still have the ability to make people think, their ego is going to take a hit and as a result they're not going to like you. They don't want to think. They want to be right, unrivaled or entertained.

Instead of being proud that you led someone to God, be more concerned with the person you pushed away from Him.

I must be out of my mind if I loved you in spite of everything you've done, and anyone else would condemn you for it, but I can't condemn you at all. In my own troubled mind, I loved you for it.

The writer in her went silent and hid when her revealing words were wide-spread read.

Their love story: It’s when logic fell in love with paranoia and paranoia learned to love logic; logic grounded paranoia and paranoia turned up the heat because logic never knew where that heat would come from. Logic needs to be stimulated and paranoia needs to be soothed and therefore they need each other, which resulted in the birth of combustion. The end.

You love the word love but you don’t really love and you don’t want to love because love, which is really sacrifice, would prevent you from doing what you want to do.

All the bruised lives, searching hearts...Everyone wants a love story but few will risk what it takes to live one.

The earth is grounding while the mountains, curvaceous and sweeping, offer a blanket of refuge. Their woods are abounding in camouflage as their leaves sway about in continuous, florid dance. There is an air of invulnerability that is exclusive to the woods, which is why she’s most happy among them. She doesn’t mind beasts as they are preferable to humans and much less threatening; beasts, you see, although dangerous, are incapable of the enmity that permeates beyond the shade of the woods.

What an ambiance, and such a pity I'm alone: Candles giving off their glow, gusts of wind and the light tapping of rain on the windowpane - a massage for the mind. And a comforting one, too.

Speaking of happiness, those distinctive moments are found outdoors – in the fall, in the winter and always in the mountains where people are few, wildlife is abundant and there is peace in the quiet.

The spider's web: She finds an innocuous corner in which to spin her web. The longer the web takes, the more fabulous its construction. She has no need to chase. She sits quietly, her patience a consummate force; she waits for her prey to come to her on their own, and then she ensnares them, injects them with venom, rendering them unable to escape. Spiders – so needed and yet so misunderstood.

They say love inspires. Guess what inspires more? An enemy.

Who are we to think we deserve anything? What makes us so great? No one is "lucky" to have us. We are all full of it.

If I never shed a tear or wondered what happened to someone I actually loved, what makes you believe I'd think twice about you, someone I never even cared for?

You may not like what I see but I don't like what you do.

People don't want words, as seductive, pleasant and warming as they can be. People want to see that they're worth some sacrifice or some great deed. And it's not that people are always worth it, it's that love is.

I’m awake and I can’t sleep. The more I’m awake, the more I see, and the harder to sleep.

Some people live their lives being perpetual victims and finger pointers. To anyone who points a finger at someone else and lays all the blame at their feet instead of taking responsibility for their own behavior, I would say, "I see that finger and you know where you can put it?

We know what we should do. Age is no excuse. Do we go to others for permission or for discipline?

I don’t make excuses, so don’t make excuses for me. When I’m being an ass, it’s because I have one.

She has never understood, nor been able to relate to a herd mentality. She doesn't get along with followers and avoids the bandwagon. She marches to her own tune and does it alone. She's despised by the weak-minded and respected by the strong. She ruffles the feathers of the flock because she champion's the defenseless and pick's on the mob. Does she wish she could not give a damn and live an ordinary life surrounded by nodding and needy ordinary people? At times...but she'd be bored out of her mind when she's never bored alone, and because of that she's patient because a couple of times in a lifetime she's lucky enough to come across a memorable, magnetic and remarkable person - one worth knowing, even if just for the brevity of a conversation.

She may have been among them but she could never be one of them. She was without inclusion for-as-much as she was not "one of the girls" and she wasn't "one of the guys." She was an outsider gazing in, endlessly comfortless, while they wished they had what it took to be less like the others and more like her.

A woman once held a Canary in the palm of her hand and stroked her and whispered a careful warning. The canary, seeking some freedom to fly, went into the mine while the woman watched in worry. The mine was filled with toxic gases and the Canary began to sing. She flew into danger, realized the threats around her, and wished to return to a place of refuge.

You see it everywhere and everyone seems to be doing it but you. You could have had it as well, and you know it, and that’s what bothers you. Your worst enemy is yourself, and sadly, you know that what you did wasn't worth what you lost.

A vast number of people bemoan the lack of love in their lives and one must wonder if it's because they're looking for a "type" or have a list of requirements that someone else has to meet first, in which case it's no wonder that they miss out, because when you love, it's not that all that you were looking for is found in another, it's that the person you love ends up making you see they are what you wanted all along; love, after all, is usually found in unforeseen places with the most unexpected people.

I have to crack a nut in order to enjoy it.

The only stirrups I like are on a saddle.

If it’s danger you seek you can go to war, blow the whistle on someone powerful, piss off someone unhinged, walk in a field during a lightning storm, tease a rattlesnake, or lose yourself in the right embrace. Some people live for it, others suffer in spite of it.

She has her helmet, shield and sword. Does she finish him or take pity on the gutless thing before her?Does she set fire and smoke him out, forcing him to fight, or does she let him live with himself and take satisfaction from knowing that he has never been in a real fight in his life and that one day he will have to face his demons in person, along with the consequences, and that both can be far more painful than anything she could ever do to him.

The black widow, who had dispatched a lover or two, was sought out for her wisdom. The young spider asked her, "Did you keep his harmful secret under the threat of danger, or did you spin a web so confusing that he didn't know if you were friend or foe? Did you release him from the web and your presence or will you give another the venom in which to finish him?" The black widow was quiet and then said, "All of the above.

Some people are far more cognizant than others but sensitivity has its own cross to bear and ample insight, in many cases, can bring on disquietude.

The world needs them - the ones who absorb the emotions of others, which diminishes their pain and disquietude and the world also uses them as a repository for confessions, secrets, grudges and indignation. They will leave these uncommon and intuitive individuals feeling unburdened themselves while the unusual individual will be weighed down by having taken on those burdens in addition to their own. The world needs them but what they need is something as aberrant as themselves, and that is silence, stillness and rest.

How did I learn empathy? I learned it while suffering. How did I learn about karma? Because it came back to me and I deserved it. I now know when any hurt I experience is due to circumstances outside of my control, karma, or self-imposed consequences for foolish choices. I do feel justice is served if karma humbles someone who needs it, and as anyone who has been wronged can attest, what they seem to want most is for the offending party to experience how it feels and to know in that moment exactly what they did to someone else and to be filled with remorse and hopefully, repentance.

The agony of the empath is feeling their pain but being unable to save them from it.

An empath is capable of taking on the grief of another in order to lessen their suffering. In order to not be consumed with pain, an empath should have an outlet for that pain lest they lose themselves in feeling for others.

Don't start a fight if you can't duke it out. Either win or concede but whatever you do, don't have others fight for you.

Many want to be a warrior but they don't know what a lonely, tough, or pain staking journey it is. Warriors have to fight on behalf of the defenseless, defend what is right, as well as fight believers and non-believers alike. In reality, few like warriors because they confront their own, and their own think they're above being confronted. The warrior, you see, most often walks alone.

Hatred may keep a body warm, but it takes a lot to keep the fire stoked, so unless a person is extraordinary in some way, some people are not worth hating, just like they’re not worth loving.

Seasons of the heart. To get through what I must I'm often encased in ice and for months he chips away until he can see my face and after a while, I begin to thaw. As warmth and feeling returns, my emotions continue to build until my personality is set on fire. When he leaves, the fire dwindles until there is but a flicker. Then there is stillness and winter returns.

I appreciate the beauty and balm of flowers but I have never enjoyed receiving them because then I have to watch them die, and worse...throw them away.

It's effortless to let go of self-absorbed people. It's challenging to let go of someone you care about and it's exceedingly difficult to let go of an ideal and a belief in someone because what exacerbates the disappointment of finding out they weren't who they presented themselves to be, is the betrayal of it.

When I say I'm going to forget you I know it's impossible to forget someone I once knew. What I want is to erase you from my thoughts and purge you from my memories. I'm saying it's what I wish for, not what is or could ever be.

As long as she is near or within his power to reach, he will be drawn to her, leaving less of him for others and that's why she had to leave. She knew, despite her own great desire, that there are consequences and responsibilities that are more important and life-altering than personal feelings.

She sat there reading; cool, calm and collected. "You could ruin his life with that information," her friend reported triumphantly. The woman sighed, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "If I did he would never forget me," she replied. "Besides...I don't care enough about his life to concern myself with what he does with it as long as he doesn't concern himself with thoughts of me." Her friend furrowed her brows. "Why?" she asked. The woman set her book down, leaned forward provocatively and said, "Because then I'd have to think of him too.

If they don't walk away, we have to walk away, and sometimes we do it crying.

People give up on each other long before they give up on themselves, and they do that, too.

I can only miss the true and I can only mourn the brave. Cowards make it easy to let go because you're not losing anything worth having.

She screwed me for life," he lamented to the pretty young woman he desperately wanted to love but couldn't quite fall in love with. "I've had relationships before but she was the most peculiar, infuriating and damnable thing I ever dared care for!" "You want to forget her," his girlfriend said painfully. She rubbed his back wishing she didn't have to compete with a menacing memory. "That relationship, the strangest I've ever known, changed me," he confided regretfully. "Like an unwanted and destructive addiction." "She wronged you," the red-head beside him blurted out truthfully. "And she continues to wrong you because you let her. Ever since her you can't help but compare." He looked at her tenderly, his heart trying to break through ice. "You want to let go but you can't let go," she continued coolly. He looked into the distance feeling the one he drew close but seeing the one out of reach. How could he let go of something, or someone, that made him feel so alive? A sweet, supportive voice knowingly broke through his thoughts, "The challenge," she whispered, "lies within you...

Theirs was a tug-of-war and neither could let go. Both felt the burn and still wouldn't let go. Some might call it a game for neither could admit defeat.

I'm not opposed to aging - even though society is kinder on men than women when it comes to getting old. How can I look at aging as the enemy? It happens whether I like it or not and no one is set apart from growing old; it comes to us all. Youth passes from everyone, so why deny it? I'm proud of my age. I'm proud that I've survived this planet for as long as I have, and should I end up withered, wrinkled and with a lifetime of great wisdom, I'll trade the few years of youth for the sophistication of a great mind...for however long it lasts.

I need to stop saying LMAO because that is precisely what's happening; I wish I could rewind time by two decades, immortalize my derriere in wax, and then kiss it goodbye.

Youth. I don't seek it through another because I have it within; it's a state of mind, a spirit that is free, and a mind that is playful. The shell of my being is altered by the effects of time, but nothing will tarnish a soul that will never forget what its like to experience creation with endless wonder and appreciation. Each time I see the first snowfall of the season I feel it's the first time I've seen it at all.

The more candles on my cake means I get a little more exercise in blowing them out.

Honor doesn’t revise according to company just as integrity doesn’t diminish due to circumstance.

She wasn't always a pillar of ice. Her warmth and good deeds were repaid with deceit and betrayal until little by little a chill took over.

It was evenings like that when beneath dim light and relaxing in a sultry bath that she missed him the most. A flicker of candlelight, wind breathing snow against the window and the soothing scent of creme caramel – all were a comfort to her as she closed her eyes, summoned memories and many a tender thought. She didn't feel deserving of the devotion bestowed upon her, but she had finally learned to accept its wondrous gift, knowing that love was the source of existence and its only end.

She never wants to get to the point where she looks forward to hearing from someone. Once you look forward to something, you’re inevitably let down and nothing can stay the same so she'd rather expect nothing at all and just be surprised that she was thought of at all.

Shoo. Away with you. It's my fault for expecting the extraordinary from the ordinary.

Friendship is a sacred thing and I do not extend the word lightly. I've had long-term romances in my life but few genuine friendships. I am exceedingly picky about who I let in my inner circle and because of that I have a few friends and many acquaintances.

Loyalty. Is it something only dogs know?When I think of it, I wonder if I would rather have it than love. Whereas love is often an over-used word and an unpredictable feeling, the other is nothing but dependability.

Sometimes, despite how your heart feels, you have to do what you must in order to get the result you need. When it's impossible to walk away then you need to make it hurt and they will walk away for you.

Tough break-up? Trash stinks, which is why you toss it.

Why is it you tell me the truth only when you've fallen asleep? It's then that you visit me.

I don’t miss anyone. If I did I would do something about it. Besides, some people come back...in dreams. That’s when they’re honest.

When he comes for her, it’s only in her dreams where she has no control, no way to shut the door, and nowhere to run. That’s when she listens.

You can shoo people away in real life, but not when they force their way in through the dream door.

I shivered as the cold was all encompassing, not just from being outdoors, but from being read as well. He had a way of seeing through me. It was as unnerving as it was bonding and I couldn't figure out how the two could co-exist.

Envy, as distasteful as it is, has seeped into my mind on rare occasions, and those I've envied, although few in number, have only been those that live a life of leisure with peace of mind and time to do such wonderful things as read.

I know you're there. I can detect your presence each time it closes in on mine.

Three of them have the gift of sight but two of them ignore it when what they want most is to believe "this one" will be different.

A friendship has but one chief adversary and that is envy. It is sired by resentment with the potential consequence of unresolved estrangement." She looked at the woman in conflict and said, "Do not envy her but imagine what it took for her to have what you resent her for. Would you want to embark upon her journey instead of your own to procure it? You notice her abundance but overlook her losses; do not envy her because she would rather have your friendship than your envy." The woman looked at her and nodded in accord, "And how do you do that?" she asked. The woman sighed in reflective thought. "By changing the way you think.

You can not argue with stupid but you can certainly play with it.

People care much more for how things look than how things are.

His ghost comes back to be remembered. If he can’t be in this life, he procures a way to stay in orbit, and in that way, is never forgotten.

In addition to unfinished business, some ghosts haunt so that they will be remembered.

She's not ashamed of loving, although those she's loved are few in number; it was/is sweet and true. She's only ashamed she used love as an excuse.

How different would people act if they couldn't show off on social media? Would they still do it?

First bathrooms, now cars. At least people are wearing their seat belts.

In a social media world, the danger is being overexposed and when something is overexposed it is no longer interesting...if ever it was.

Followers, followers. Sometimes, with some things, it’s best to keep your tally down.

You will know who the enemy is intimidated by because they're the ones he targets and keeps beating down.

She may be crazy but at least she isn't you.

He wasn't yours to get hurt by. He was someone else's and you knew that, so why are you offended? What right do you have to be hurt when you were a part of the deception (lying by omission)?

Warriors want a worthy opponent. There is no redress in fighting the pathetic.

You wonder why he loves her, she's so unlike any other, but any man can love an ordinary woman. They’re everywhere and whereas he’s had other women love him before, they were women who loved a lot, and such love is fickle, never setting anyone apart.Attaining the love of someone known not to love is an honor and the highest level of love there is, because it’s rare, and real.

Neither one of them could turn off their feelings, even with so much time and distance between them. The more they were apart, and the more they weren't allowed to be together, the more they loved each other.

She was told it was magnetism that kept them engaged, and how do you separate magnets? You force them apart.

Not only are the poorest people the most generous but they don't expect anything in return, least of all recognition from others by means of showing off or posting a humble brag like so many from average society do and you can identify these people through the abundance of photos they post, literally with their hands in the air, showing off what they've done for the "less fortunate." I guess they missed the part where God said to be humble and to do good works in private.

Attraction isn't wrong. People can’t help who they are drawn to and they certainly can’t control affinity, as uncommon as it is. What is wrong is acting on inclination if it hurts someone else, namely a significant other.

People will sometimes find themselves attracted to others, that's just who they are. It's what they do with that attraction that defines them.

So what if you're plain? Anyone can like a beautiful woman or a handsome man. That's easy. But power is the ability to inspire attraction without the obvious.

At least with zombies I know my enemy and I know what to do: Aim and shoot. It's not so easy with people.

You're not interesting in the least," she spat. "I don't need to be," I smiled. "That's what you need...And you're welcome to it.

Sometimes you grow to love the shadow that follows.

Why weren't we born in the same era?" he lamented. She eased past him neither here nor there, looked over her shoulder and whispered, "How mundane and cliche would that be?

Which is worse? Loving someone and not being able to be with them or not loving someone and having to be with them.

The most interesting people are the unusual. No one writes about or discusses the average, the ordinary, or the common; they write about and discuss the weird, the mad and the different, so if you are one, even though the opinions of others are of no importance, you are, in their eyes, significant enough to notice and remember.

Good or bad, if you’re not “normal,” you can’t have a normal relationship. If you are different, people will relate to you differently.

She doesnt want your dark embrace. She'll let you hold her for a short time but she won’t submit to that kind of weakness and she'll only let you get so close. In the past it was easier pushing you into the arms of another rather than face what was or what could be. She doesn't want to love; not now, so she'll close the door and toss the key.

I don't envy "busy." Busy means having a schedule, not living life. What I really covet is leisure and peace of mind. Those who have both, have it all.

Only cowards cave. The brave get assassinated.

Tolerance. In all my years of debating politics and religion no mind was changed with derision and no thought convicted by way of harshness. You have no right to demand tolerance while deriding others and their beliefs in the process. Want tolerance? Extend it. You’ll be surprised because given it, people will actually listen.

Do we really need a study on why people lie? They lie because it's easy, and cowards are good at "easy." Telling the truth takes moxie, and few have it.

Soul mates may be linked, but fight to separate, causing wounds and confusion. They teach what no one else can.

The easiest way to get rid of bitterness is to spit it out. The easiest way to forget something noxious is to flush it. The easiest way to move on is to erase everything, and I do mean everything.

Steam rising underneath a canopy of whispering, changing aspens; starlight in the clear, dark night, and wondrous beauty in every direction. If only all could feel this way, to be so captured and enthralled with autumn.

Enchantment and fulfillment were on the gold and garnet horizon - autumn's breath, a dormant dream reawakened, a yearning nearly satiated, a tender thank you with a brush of the lips, and a connection as fingers touch and go hand in hand.

My fear is that he'll forget me," she bemoaned with crystalline sadness. I took her hand, limp with loss and held it. "I'd rather not be remembered by any man as it saves me the embarrassment.

I didn't intend to go in that direction but strange things happen when the lights go out.

Weird people don't care if they're weird. They are the most entertaining to converse with because nothing is off-limits.

Just because you talk about it or advocate for one position doesn't mean you care more. Just because someone doesn't talk about it and advocates a different position doesn't mean they care less.

If you have to speculate if someone loves you and wants to be with you, chances are they don't. It's not that complicated. Love, in most cases, betrays the one feeling it. Don't waste moments waiting and wondering. Don't throw away your time dreaming of someone that doesn't want you. No one is that amazing, certainly not the one who would pass you up.

You've invaded my mind and I can't get you out of it," he accused with discernible disdain. She avoided looking at him and said, "Then you should forget." "Forget?" he thundered,"EVERYTHING reminds me of you!" She turned to confront him, slowing lifting her eyes to meet the disgust in his. "That's not my doing," she countered, "That's your doing and you are the only one who can control it.