refrain

A man of words and not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds.

i've lost my voice

“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”

—Sylvia Plath

over the rainbow