It is war now, and armies need symbols.

But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosion of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?

Live free or die.

It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.

How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?

Fridays are the hardest in some ways: you’re so close to freedom.

Dystopian novels help people process their fears about what the future might look like; further, they usually show that there is always hope, even in the bleakest future.

And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.

i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

Where once I prayed for forgiveness from a father God who held up huge palms and said “Thou shalt not, ” now I find peace with a sister god who takes my open hands in hers and says, “You will.

Suffocate despair with prayers.

We should behave to our friends as we would wish our friends to behave to us.

Nothing surprised me more, and meant more to me, than seeing an entire class of ninth graders mob Congressman [John] Lewis at a book festival.

Education and morals make the good man, the good statesman, the good ruler.

The release date is just one day, but the record is forever.

Pulling out the chair beneath your mind And watching you fall upon God What else is there for Hafiz to do that is any fun in this world!

I finally moved out of my parent's house. It was only fair to let my sister have her own room.

The Cat was a creature of absolute convictions, and his faith in his deductions never varied.

The Taj is pinkish in the morning, milky white in the evening and golden when the moon shines.