I always thought that life was about standing your ground, no matter how strong the current was. But going with the flow isn't so bad after all. As long as it takes you forward.

People like hurting each other but loving is not a waste.

I am pissed off at your insensitive inability to understand why I'm pissed off in the first place.

Forgetting about our mistakes and our wounds isn't enough to make them disappear.

The longer we live the more weight we carry in our hearts.

Don't just give up, Hachiko. Life is about getting knocked down over and over, but still getting up each time. If you keep getting up, you win.

Are you living everyday so that even if the end were to come you’d have to regrets?

Even if you fulfill your hearts desire, by sacrificing something important, you may not necessarily be happy. Happiness doesn’t come in one form, it determined by your own heart.

Having someone you love say "Thank you" is more rewarding than just having them say "I love you.

Please leave me something...even one memory would be enough.

His hands are saying that he wants to hold her. His feet are saying that he wants to chase after her... He's probably forgotten that I'm here, beside him

I cringed as the band oozed into the next chord. If notes were cars, I think there was a D major under the wreckage.

The Irish way of telling a story is a complex and elaborate one, complete with wild exaggerations, a certain delight in improbable fantasy, and a heightened sense of drama.

Why is Cloud 9 so amazing? What is wrong with Cloud 8? That joke came off the top of my head, and the top of my head ain't funny!

We must become just be doing just acts.

If you add something to a painting, never let it be for aesthetic reasons. Only let it be for reasons of expression.

Kush rolled, glass full, I prefer the better things.

A lot of the earliest Instagram celebrities took really beautiful photos. But you're starting to see a change where it's not about beauty; it's about the story that you tell.

We will never meet God in revival until we have first met Him in brokenness.

Nothing is uglier than the sinner, nothing so leprous or fetid; the scar of his crimes is still raw, and he stinks like the cave of Hell.

No visiting angel, or explorer from another planet, could have guessed that this bland orb [Earth] teemed with vermin, with world-mastering, self-torturing, incipiently angelic beasts.