“And sometimes, just sometimes,out of every hundred; you are shinningon the inside. Sometimessometimes, on the same day,universe decides to reflect you on theoutside, it decides to shine too ,Soyou put a smile on your face, take awalk and watch it sharing yourhappiness, sharing your light ,breathit all in, take your boost and let theworld lift you up till you actuallybelieve that it has your back ,take thegift and take your credit, even if it'snot your wings, cause this universeonly reflects back, it gifts back, it'sfair but it isn't an initiator. Andmaybe, just maybe if you believe in it,it will believe in you too, maybe thenwhen it's raining on you, when it's toodark, when rock bottom gives you aconcussion, you will look up withfaith, and out of all the thingsshowering on your head, you will findyour favorite one, you will be giftedwith stars,ones that can reflect on your inside,ones that can light you up back”

“I will run every mile, i will saveevery line, i will say i reached thetop and i will fall back down standing.I will write down every thing, the goodand the bad,I will wake up one day andgo back to the start. I will noticethat the good ones were nothing but mybeautiful lines, were everything paintedby my mind. I will notice that the badones were nothing but pieces of mypain that should have been crumbled and thrown away the first time i started torain. I will leave home and i won'tmind, i will miss some beating piecesbut i will survive.the sky will stayin place, mountains won't shake and mymind will go nowhere.the stars will take my side not yours, and the new airin your chest will feel forever cold. Iwill donate a piece of my heart to hurtyou forever and a lifelong lastingquestion about what you have lost.Myhands won't ever fit in yours and myfaith says that crown on your head willhurt you the most.One day i won't overlook anythinganymore. One day i won't rememberanything anymore.I will stoppretending i'm ice cold and i willlearn how to be strong.one day I willgrow out of this, i will grow out ofus.”

“And my biggest fear would be forevermissing a piece. You see our story wasnever complete, and it's supposed to befinished but you haven't yet heard allof me.So listen because my biggest fear would be missing out on how ittruly feels . I will forever miss atouch though i never tried it on myface; i might miss how cold it is and imight miss how warm it left me, i mightmiss how it perfectly traces every lineand i might miss how it gets losteverytime. I will forever miss a handthat held my heart, one that onlylearnt how to wave goodbye, one thatonly learnt how to part, i will neverknow how your fingers interlaced withmine, though i have been always surethat they fit perfectly inside. And Iknow i will definitely miss waking upto your eyes, i will miss knowing theysee right through me, i will misshaving that subtle silent starereassure my heart. And a very longplaylist will go to waste, no slowdancing not on the kitchen floor andnever once in the rain.Just know Ialready miss having your back, but youare the one who turned yours and idon't know if i should ever forgivethat.”

“The thing about light is that it really isn’t yours; it’s what you gather and shine back. And it gets more power from reflectiveness; if you sit still and take it in, it fills your cup, and then you can give it off yourself.”

“This body is yours. No one can ever take it from you, if only you will accept yourself, claim it again--your arms, your spine, your ribs, the small of your back. It's all yours. All this bounty, all this beauty, all this strength and grace is yours. This garden is yours. Take it back. Take it back.”

“You get all squeezed up inside, like the days were carved in stone. You get all wired up inside, and it's bad to be alone. You can go out, you can take a ride. And when you get out on your own,You get all smoothed out inside. And it's good to be alone.”

“He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who reflected your own light to you? People were more often--he searched for a simile, found one in his work--torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?”