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“Al artists are tourists, and even worse, they're the type of tourists who lack respect for the place they're visiting and end up trashing everything while deliberately antagonizing the locals. If fear mongering is your primary conversion tactic, you've already lost.”

Reid Southen

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“Pondered the possibilities offered me, on these streets, squares, garden benches and brooksides, of feeling thoroughly unhappy. Whoever can cry should come here on Sunday.”

Franz Kafka

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“Your room is not your prison. You are.”

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

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“Let July be July. Let August be August. And let yourself just be even in the uncertainty.”

Morgan Harper Nichols

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“Let them steal your eyes. Let them see your eyes.”

YUNGBLUD

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“Allow people to steal your eyes.”

YUNGBLUD

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“To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June.”

Jean-Paul Sartre

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“—but it was a May afternoon and the cool air was a flower blooming with its perfume.”

Clarice Lispector, A bela e a fera

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“A mother’s love, how sweet the name! What is a mother’s love? A noble, pure, and tender flame. Extended from above.”

James Montgomery

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“I am thankful for my struggle because without it, I wouldn't have stumbled upon my strength.”

Alex Elle

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“May, I love you with everything I am. For so long, I just wanted to be like you. But I had to figure out that I am someone too, and now I can carry you, your heart with mine, everywhere I go.”

Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead

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“I know now what no angel knows.”

Wings Of Desire, dir. by Wim Wenders

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"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."

Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

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“Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment. You need not die today. Stay here—through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow. Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.”

Gwendolyn Brooks, To The Young Who Want To Die

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“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”

T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land

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“When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good cheer—say, travelling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep; it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence and how they come, I know not; nor can I force them.”

a letter attributed to Mozart, but is in fact a forgery as pointed out by Otto Jahn, in his biography “Life of Mozart”

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“In March the earth remembers its own name.”

Mary Oliver, Worm Moon