Iain S. Thomas Quotes

If you are lucky, one day you'll get the chance to have your life defined by how much you loved and were loved by someone else.

I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn't get it. They may think they get it, but they don't. This is the sign you've been looking for. You were meant to read these words.

You can hide so much, you forget what it's like to be found.

The Taking Of Turns

Monday, June 14, 2010
You are in some songs that still get played on the radio when the DJ is feeling nostalgic.
You are in a book you once lent me (never returned) with yellowed pages.
You are in trees when I touch them, even ones without names carved into them.
You are in the way someone on the street laughs as I pass them.
You are in a box I keep filled with letters.
You are in a ring I no longer wear.
And, every day, you each get a moment to haunt me.

She was real to me. And while I can be logical about this, logic has never once mended a broken heart or fixed a sundered soul. She has poisoned the very core of me. A dream has killed me

You cannot kill me here. Bring your soldiers, your death, your disease, your collapsed economy because it doesn't matter, I have nothing left to lose and you cannot kill me here. Bring the tears of orphans and the wails of a mother's loss, bring your God damn air force and Jesus on a cross, bring your hate and bitterness and long working hours, bring your empty wallets and love long since gone but you cannot kill me here. Bring your sneers, your snide remarks and friendships never felt, your letters never sent, your kisses never kissed, cigarettes smoked to the bone and cancer killing fears but you cannot kill me here. For I may fall and I may fail but I will stand again each time and you will find no satisfaction. Because you cannot kill me here.

If you really want to know, I just hope I die before I get boring.

Never apologize for how you feel. No one can control how they feel. The sun doesn't apologize for being the sun. The rain doesn't say sorry for falling. Feelings just are

Sometimes I have a weird dream that we're all relatively brief sparks of consciousness that live on a rock circling a ball of fire.

You cannot fix me because I am not broken. And even though everything has changed, I am still more than I've ever been.

The problem with the chemicals in my head is they lead to feelings in the rest of me.

When it rains, the river will try and and take you away from me.
Which is why, when it rains, we must hold onto each other, just a little tighter.

The universe is desperately trying to move you into the only spot that truly belongs to you, in the whole entire thing, a space that only you can stand in. I believe it is up to you to decide every single day whether you are moving towards or away from that spot.

Let someone love you just the way you are - as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.

Not everyone wins the lottery,
but everyone who does
bought a ticket.

To live the life you want,
you have to be brave
and buy the ticket every single day.

Let's talk about it another time.*

*If I'm honest, sometimes I feel like we've been trying to find each other in every life before this one, and this is as close as we've ever gotten. And I know now that we have to try again because we fucked this up. Maybe we won't even be born on the same continent next time, or the time after that, and we'll just spend those lives searching for something we can't find, miserable for reasons we will never understand. Until we get to try again. Until we somehow find each other in another life.

Everyone you meet along the way is just someone at a different point in their story.
So be patient and kind.
But don't let anyone tell you how your story should go.

I hope you never hate anything longer than you need to.

There was a research article I read with the headline, "Love Is A Single Act Committed By Two Brains," because of the way oxytocin levels rose in a mother and a son when they hugged. I wish more poets became scientists

History is a series of difficult choices. The only reason there's anything left of the human race, the only reason we're still here is because men like me made those difficult choices

And we're not everything we could be, because we're afraid to allow ourselves to exist all at once, because too many people have told us not to.

This is my skin. It keeps out the rain and words I'd rather not hear like "I'm tired" or "I'm fine" or "We need to talk."
This is my skin and it's thick. This is not your skin. Yet you are still under it.

We only hear the loudest voices when really, we should be listening to the quietest.

What follows is what happens each time I fall. I do not know if these things really happen but this is what I believe happens. As your eyes move across these words, some sacred engine is coming back to life and I am beginning to fall again. Sometimes, it feels like I'm floating

This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much

I hope that if love hurts, it teaches you something about yourself or about someone else.

Elsewhere are two letters that were never sent, because of pride, each a declaration of love that would've changed lives

You've got such beautiful words but none I can eat, none which block the rain, none which bandage my wounds, none which build a home.
Nothing beautiful, which did not work, ever became anything more than pretty

That everything you want to happen, will happen, if you decide you want it enough. That every time you think a sad thought, you can think a happy one instead.
That you control that completely.
That the people who make you laugh are more beautiful than beautiful people. That you laugh more than you cry. That crying is good for you. That the people you hate wish you would stop and you do too.
That your friends are reflections of the best parts of you. That you are more than the sum total of the things you know and how you react to them. That dancing is sometimes more important than listening to the music.
That the most embarrassing, awkward moments of your life are only remembered by you and no one else

It's not the things you don't want that drag you under. It's the things you think you want.
Those, are the killers.

There is a kind of light that can shine in anyone, if they give themselves the space to shine.

The feeling you get when you think of something amazing and then forget it and know that it felt amazing but you cant remember the details. Then, minutes later, you remember it again and you're so grateful because you nearly lost something, forever. Except, this time, its a person. Not an idea.

You are well within your rights to stand up, interrupt everyone around you and say, 'This is not who I am. This is not what I want. I'm sorry, but you've mistaken me for somebody else.

And if you find someone with a head made of colors and a heart made of secrets, try to love them like they need to be loved.

Does it hurt? What is it?"
"It's not food poisoning, it's not a hazard to public health."
"What is it?"
"It's just an ache you've given me. I'll live. But only with you.

Draw every bad word you've ever called yourself on your body. Stand in the shower and pay attention to the way the words turn back into ink and disappear down the drain.

Now listen: You are made of good things. You are capable of incredible things. You are a song the universe sings itself, in every color it can imagine. Some parts are sad. Some parts are happy. Every part of the song, is a part of you. Listen. Listen to the sound of the universe.

Now if only I could do something about my neurosis that forces me to narrate my life out loud for everyone to hear, I said, to no one in particular.

It was dark and I didn't know if the sun would come out again.

you weren't mine to begin with.

I hope you discover that love is both a feeling and an action, like light is both a particle and a wave.

And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers