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That gentle voice was a blade for fifty years. But in a photograph, no blade is visible at all.
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What made your life lonely was never the wrong words. It was the true voice you never got to speak,…
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The crack inside a piece of pottery isn’t a mark of damage. It’s a mark of endurance.
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You’re not exhausted because you weren’t kind. You’re exhausted because you were kind for far too long, out of fear.