Newest quotes & creative writing ideas


Swift justice is "just-ice," it takes longer to use empathy, to use warmth over icy logic. It's not only lazy and cruel to throw all these kids in jail, it's stupid. We know how trauma alters the brain and how patient and dependable love heals it. So please, no more "just-ice," let's have "just-nurture."

paper friends

I know you're a paper friend, and that's okay, because that tells me we're a blank page, that it's up to us to choose what we write. Some folks need a whole lotta pages and some are a sweet scribble in the margins, and that's all good. So, let's see where this goes.

an Emotional person

The greatest thing about me, my emotional warmth, isn't a flaw... it's a floor. It's the bedrock of who I am, of the person I was born to be. I'm soft, I'm vulnerable, I wear my heart for all to see... and it takes strength to do that... so, I'm a hero; I'm a champion of those who love as I do.


I saw the way the woman walked, shoulders back, yet eyes frequently checking her own appearance; it was as if she felt superior and insecure all at once, perhaps that's the emotional optimum in a shallow society. I prefer the way our Maya is, she swaggers, a sort of free-style motion that says she's real happy with who she is, eyes on the sky, the trees and the birds, music in her soul as much as her ears.

a lawn

"Yeah, we call them 'greserts' now, kinda kissed the words "green" and "desert" together; 'cause it's what they are to bees. I wanna be sweeter to our little honey makers, give them some nectar to enjoy."

emotional growth

Emotional growth is much akin to physical fitness, in that the more you practice being empathic and kind, the more you do the right thing even when it's the harder thing, the easier it gets. But it's also "no pain, no gain," because you gotta be willing to look at yourself with that "no excuses" attitude and be willing to make the changes you need to make.


We only ever see blue while the sun shines; so while it's there, the blue, take heart, for in these moments you are far closer to being healed than those who take comfort in the coldness of a void.

abusive relationship

I gave to you freely from a sense of deep love, yet you assumed you had taken it from dominance. I saw our relationship as cooperation, yet you saw manipulation instead of helping words, as if we were in some bizarre live game of chess. It broke my heart to realize that you saw a cold war instead of sweet love, for it was all in your head, a paranoia.

All I ever wanted to do was love you and bring happiness, to heal where you were hurt. What I gave, I gave freely from my soul, yet you thought yourself entitled to all I ever had and more. You were as a guest at a restaurant who, because he pays the bill, he feels entitled to be rude to the chef. Yet love is more akin to cooking one another meals for the joy of feeding the other, the coziness that comes from nurturing being the reward. What you saw and felt isn't love at all; I'm sorry that I failed to teach you, yet it was also your duty to learn.

I should have seen the signs, how you were cold, how you never took the initiative for connecting with touching words or physical love. I should have seen how every good thing you achieved was solely accredited to you, yet all my achievements were also accredited to you. I wish you had learned humility, humbleness and kindness, the happiness that comes from feeling as part of a team, one where each is boosted by the other, proud of the other's success. Love brings joy to giving, it is the difference between feeling as a valued helping friend or a slave; it's the magic ingredient that makes everything wonderful. What you showed me was indifference to my pains, refusing my emotional needs, demanding resilience and compliance.

Leaving you was a harsh road to my "bad place," a personal hell, yet in truth, it was also the only road to my "good place," my best chance at a better life and, with luck, one day experiencing real love. I hope you find your way too, that you learn how to truly love instead of hiding behind that mask of what you suppose friendliness is.


Sometimes it takes a few more words to say something right, sometimes an economy of speech reflects an economy of sentiment, and my lovely, it's always a false economy. Perhaps it's a symptom of this culture we're in, one that needs to slow down, learn the joy of savouring moments and feeling the love in each nurturing deed. Then, as if by divine magic, the drudgery becomes the gold, the stress an opportunity to meditate, the pain a God given chance to learn deeper love, to nurture and listen with the heart.


It is to the forest I go for rest, for serenity that flows as cool river waters. There is something about the sparkle upon the blue, a melody without a rhythm, music without sound. Above wave the great arms, clothed in the greens of every palate and none, the verdant hues of nature's free dreams. In that place I become a part of that art, of that three dimensional creation of time and space, of a greater evolutionary span than my brain can fathom. It's when I stop knowing and begin feeling, it's when I hear with my heart the voices of these mighty trees, "Sister, welcome."


I believe that each of us deserve a chance at love. And I know it sound silly that there’s someone out there for everyone but I believe in love. Now I know some say there’s no such thing as true love, that it all ends in heartbreak and pain, but I think that’s the beauty of it. To have something so perfect for such a short while, and then for it to disappear into nothing. It’s an endless loop, never ending, always on the move. You never know where it will take you. That's the thing about love, it's so beautiful and mysterious and magical. I believe we all deserve a chance at love, because we all deserve something magical. And for me, my magic started at a simple coffee shop down the road from school...

lacking self confidence

Dear Luna, tell me of why you chose to be silver over gold, a simple reflection over being a real star with light of your own; for our world needs stars to guide the way, ones with hearts as pure as yours. Did you think, my dove, that to be a star you had to be son? For what is gender at all? Are you not simply humans, born to love, to shine brightly for others? So be bright, be bold, be brilliant. You, are a daughter, and, as I have told the others for all this time , that I will always keep a "door to her," to my moon-child, my Luna, as treasured as the sun. She is one who lights up the world, commanding the surrender of the darkest of nights to bring eternal dawn. Stars are, in truth, brilliant together, born to shine in their place and time, each as wonderful as the other, each created to be its own self in that constellation of beauty.


Show me your silvery tears, the ones on the skin of your heart. Show me your rainbow tears, the ones that come when you see the sunshine through the storm. Show me the tears that are cried beneath what the rest of the world can see, what the eyes miss yet love renders visible. The bravest thing you will ever do, sweet love, is to show me your tears, for what is tearing you apart cannot be a part of you, but something to be healed in the gentle ways of our kind.


Dear writer, will you right me? Will you hear the searing of my heart and seal in more of the cure, less of the craving for all that harms? Will you be the arms without bullets, bring the kind of digits that are kind and wrap around the ropes that bring me to a grassy bank, to make this distance nothing, so that I may place these bare feet on solid ground, that I may let this boat rest on the shore, in the surety of trust, in the harbour of your love; for if that is what you harbour, if I'm right, I'm already home. It would be so lovely though, dear writer, if you would write.

emotional pain

I will (n)ever love you, because you (n)ever cared, and I will (n)ever keep my heart open and (n)ever wait for your return. For this love of (y)ours, was (n)ever meant to be eternal.


There is beauty here for eyes born as free and loving souls, for the heart that hears the soft song of the wind as soothing as the sweetest of lullabies. For there are daisies that grow tall and pure upon our earth, reaching upwards in sunshine, blessed by rain, free for all to enjoy. There are the clouds who sail above, creating new art by the moment, naturally evolving from one masterpiece to the next, a perfect picture of time without hands or measure, always onward, more honest than any clock. This beauty is an ever-present season, yet it feels as a summer, one that remains regardless of all else. It is a beauty asking softly if we are going to "Scarborough Fair," and what will we do when we get there? Will we rediscover simple love and find it dwells within us too, that love is the most magical of mirrors, making not a reflection but a real seed that matters, one capable of growing. This simple beauty of nature is enough to rescue us all, it's time to believe in the most humble of beautiful miracles.


"Tell me, if you awoke in a skin of different hue, to walk as a human from another culture, or gender, or sexual orientation, would you hold the same opinions, my love? Or would they shift to your new perspective? And if that's the case, if they would morph into something more loving toward yourself, what does that say about those opinions, are they yours? Or based in a "them" and "us" brain pattern? In some primitive impulse? Because you are capable of so much more. So perhaps take a moment to dream of walking in the shoes of others, to imagine you were born other than how you are, and let that marvellous brain of yours see from their perspectives and open up your vision to vistas new."

Prison Cell

The lights flickered up ahead. In the distance the faint sound of water dripping from an old dingy drain pipe splashed into a puddle on the floor. In the gloom all she could make out were the four iron barred walls that locked her in. In the water dripping silence she sat, back against the cold iron bars, waiting.
Her stomach grumbled, echoing round and round the chamber walls until it faded into nothing. In effort to stop the pain she grasped her stomach only to feel the familiar feeling of her bones, crushed under her tight skin. She’d been in the cage for as long as she could remember. He’d visited her for as long as she could remember. Three times a day. Never to talk, never to help. All he ever did was inject her with that serum, and it was about time he showed up.


Do you abandon your friends, or yourself, or is it much the same thing? For when you find yourself, your true self, you will find them also. You will see all of their actions, the ones you felt as crimes, for what they really were - the confusion of lost souls, ones who haven't seen a guiding light for some time. So, trust me when I say this to you, "Walk this way, toward this childish spirit who sees with the heart and loves as birdsong in a summer breeze. Reach for the child-self you were born as, reconnect with innocence, and humble joy. Relearn the sweetness of giving as freely as sunshine and rain. Grow enough courage to step into the soft grass and flowers, so that one day you can see yourself as I do, so you can have inner peace and dream in true liberty."


I told you long ago that I would be the champion, one for all, in the dream of hearing, "and all for one" - to bring unity. Winning is only such when it is for everyone, when the champion shares the podium with the loving connections that were as wind beneath blessed wings. I am an individual, proud of my achievement, yet I only make sense as part of the many, as part of a healthy community of others striving to protect and bring health. So, here I stand, having won my peace so we can win ours. I walked the map of my scars, yet only by the light of so many handmade lanterns, and am forever indebted to those brave angels, those who sang of our human soul in all weathers from every generation that has passed. I was the student of those who spoke so boldly of love even when the price of doing so was high. From them I learned the lesson that it is by walking boldly in the winds of our storms that we strengthen and emerge victorious, ready to help others. And so this prize of love, this peace of self-trust, this fragile flame that survives hurricanes, belongs to all brave souls who seek the noble ways of love, their deeds self-monitored for noble intentions, infused with love, empathy, kindness and compassion for all creation. For when love is the north of our compass, we are able to navigate, to be the captain upon any sea.