“Why must it be so hard
For us to come to understand,
That there are things we cannot change
Hidden amongst the things we can?
For we can rearrange our hearts,
Dust out the corners of our minds,
We can teach our eyes to see
Only the things we wish to find.
Yet once we decorate our walls
And sweep our sorrows off the floor,
Why do we look to someone else,
To show us how we can be more?
For here is where the line
Between our can and can't gets tough,
Just the point at which we all must learn
That we are already enough,
That since we cannot choose the home,
Our only soul was born into,
We should rearrange its rooms
But learn to love its window's view.”
―
For us to come to understand,
That there are things we cannot change
Hidden amongst the things we can?
For we can rearrange our hearts,
Dust out the corners of our minds,
We can teach our eyes to see
Only the things we wish to find.
Yet once we decorate our walls
And sweep our sorrows off the floor,
Why do we look to someone else,
To show us how we can be more?
For here is where the line
Between our can and can't gets tough,
Just the point at which we all must learn
That we are already enough,
That since we cannot choose the home,
Our only soul was born into,
We should rearrange its rooms
But learn to love its window's view.”
―
“Do not hold your breath for anyone,
Do not wish your lungs to be still,
It may delay the cracks from spreading,
But eventually they will.
Sometimes to keep yourself together
You must allow yourself to leave,
Even if breaking your own heart
Is what it takes to let you breathe.”
―
Do not wish your lungs to be still,
It may delay the cracks from spreading,
But eventually they will.
Sometimes to keep yourself together
You must allow yourself to leave,
Even if breaking your own heart
Is what it takes to let you breathe.”
―
“Stories aren't just stories if they've been read through before, for once a cover has been opened they turn into something more. A fingerprint of everyone who's ever turned its pages and a bookmark of the you you were when read at different ages. It's as though with each reread you leave a piece of you behind, a sliver of the past pressed for your future self to find. Until it's no longer the story that makes you pull it from the shelf, but the chance to reunite with younger versions of yourself.”
―
―
“Because the birdsong might be pretty,
But it's not for you they sing,
And if you think my winter is too cold,
You don't deserve my spring.”
―
But it's not for you they sing,
And if you think my winter is too cold,
You don't deserve my spring.”
―
Cait’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Cait’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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