I carry a small sheet of paper in my wallet that has written on it the names of people whose opinions of me matter. To be on that list, you have to love me for my strengths and struggles.

Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we're supposed to be and embracing who we are.

Don't try to win over the haters; you are not a jackass whisperer.

Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.

Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness.

Daring greatly means the courage to be vulnerable. It means to show up and be seen. To ask for what you need. To talk about how you're feeling. To have the hard conversations.

What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful.

Believing that you're enough is what gives you the courage to be authentic.

Shame hates it when we reach out and tell our story. It hates having words wrapped around it - it can't survive being shared. Shame loves secrecy... When we bury our story, the shame metastasizes.

When we deny our stories, They define us. When we own our stories, we get to write the ending.

Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.

I love you. I love you, but I’m turning to my versesand my heart is closinglike a fist.

A reformer exhorted children that they would succeed where he and his colleagues had failed with the charge: "Live for that better day.

They say what doesn't kill u makes u stronger.. but truth is sometimes it does kill u, it kills a part of u then it makes u stronger.

Maybe in fairytales you're only as old as you feel, but here in L. A. you're every second as old as your pores.

You see, we all want the same things. We want to be able to take care of our families, provide for our children, to have a roof over our heads and a good-paying job.

Death is a supple suitor, that wins at last. It is a stealthy wooing; conducted first by pallid innuendos and dim approach, but brave at last with bugles.

We no longer dare to believe in beauty and we make of it a mere appearance in order the more easily to dispose of it.

Our hymn-books resound with a melodious cursing of God and enduring Him forever.

Don’t, Cassandra. (Wulf) Oh, please. I just want to choke her for a few minutes. (Cassandra)

A shocking crime was committed on the unscrupulous initiative of few individuals, with the blessing of more, and amid the passive acquiescence of all.