If you are reading this, you have survived your entire life up until this point. You have survived traumas, heartbreak, devastation, the different phases of life. And here you are. 

I cry sometimes when I read books, but not because they are sad. It's because they are beautiful.

How can you say you're not pretty when you are a cluster of stardust, a walking explosion of beauty and creativity that is waiting to burst?

I believe that you have to speak louder than the words before you, and give them a meaning no one else has found. 

I believe that one day my prince will come. He just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is too stubborn to ask for directions. He is locked away somewhere no one can find him. But I don't want him to get out, because he's safe there. He's safe in that paradise. That paradise is wonderful. As good as heaven. As evil as hell. As beautiful as fairy tales. As wild as werewolves. As crazy as myself. It's my heart.

I don't know what it is about books, but I love them. I think it's the fact that I can always count on them to take me far away from reality, to places that stretch your imagination and creativity. I want to surround myself with piles upon piles of them. I love that they can truly capture imagery in the intricately woven words that create infinite possibilities.

I want to walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. I want to let their spirit light a fire within me to leave this world better than when I found it.