Don't Tell Me That [broken Heartstrings] Hurt

A Question Like “do You Love Me?” Was An Itch Our Doctors Told Us Not To Scratch.

The Tiniest Dream That You Make Happen Is Worth More Than The Biggest Dream That You Never Attempt.

Maybe The Best We Can Hope For Is That Those We Leave Behind Find Comfort In Knowing, That We’re Born Out Of Love, And Not Science. That Biology Explains The How, But Love Explains The Why

I Sit Before Flowers Hoping They Will Train Me In The Art Of Opening Up I Stand On Mountain Tops Believing That Avalanches Will Teach Me To Let Go I Know Nothing But I Am Here To Learn.

Scrape The Grey Sky Clean. Realize Every Grey Cloud Is A Smoke Screen To Blind Us From The Truth, And The Truth Is Whether We See Them Or Not The Sun And Moon Are Still There, And Always There Is Light.