Cody Miller Quotes

Poetry without truth, is like a rose without thorns. Still pretty, But sometime the real beauty comes from the things that can make us bleed.

The strength of a kingdom comes from its King, The strength of a King comes from his Queen.

Forgiving unforgivable things is real forgiveness. Loving unlovable things is real love. Seeing someone’s inner most monster and choosing to stay is true loyalty. (It’s not something everyone can do)

The only way to truly win, is to risk losing.

In a world of weeds, she was a wildflower. In a world of prose, her voice was poetry, In a world of darkness, she was light, In a world of indifference, she cared, In a world of flaws, she was perfect, In my life of nothing, she was my world.

Comprehension is the ability to follow an explanation. Understanding is the ability to be able to lead if needed.

They say it takes a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye, Fill your life with the people who you want to spend forever saying goodbye to.

Being a people is hard.

The wounds on my heart are packed with broken promises, blood and stardust. I won’t lie, it fucking hurts. But it’s worth it to carry bits of you with me.

We pick at scabs of a bleeding heart because we don’t want time to carry on and allow the wound to heal and scar over, we wish to perpetuate, prolong, and preserve the last time they were close to us, before they walked away.

I glanced up at the trees too. Dead. Every one of them gray and white, needles rusted, leaves shriveled at the tips of branches. All the life sucked out of them. Not just the trees. All the plants, ferns, grasses and brush were shriveled, brown, barren. As if a month of winter had set down right here in my driveway and gone on a killing spree. ... "Love what you've done with the landscape," Cody said. "You could open your own business, you know." ... "The hell you talking about, Miller?" I asked Cody. "Yard care. You're poison and weed whacker all in one. You can call it Death to All Shrubbery.

Just because you are missing some pieces, doesn't mean you are broken.

Some angels can't see their wings until they are torn from them, laying bloody at their feet.

Eloquently unrefined, I am a poetic savage and a masterful fuckup.

If the universe all came from nothing, imagine what you could do when you’re at your lowest point.

If I think you're normal, I don’t know you well enough.

A noose of words wrapped softly, gently, caressing-ly around your neck. You stand oh so close to the edge, you JUMP and hope your wings work before your neck snaps.

When submerged in alcohol, truth floats to the top while lies sink to the bottom.

(‘T) is all that separates I CAN’T from I CAN. Cut away the bullshit and live your life.

I wrote patience on some paper, and waited. The wind took it.

People get so used to storms in their lives that they sometimes lose hope that it will ever end. They lock their doors and stay behind their walls forever. If you want them to come out, or you yourself be let in. All you need to do is wait, be patient, and shine.

The last of the romantics die the worst deaths, alone. But at least they die in love.

In the oppressive future artists will be the last rebels, Muses will be their deity

The end comes too soon, and apologies come too late. For that I am sorry.

When a tree is lost, it can return to its roots to find it's routes.

Is hell still hell if everyone you hated in life isn't there?

If we do not hope, we do not try, If we do not try, we do not fail, If we do not fail, we do not hurt, If we do not hurt, we do not live, If we do not live, we do not die, If we do not die, we do not dream, If we do not dream, we do not love, If we do not love we do not hope.

A puzzle is a scattered mess of pieces before it’s put together, people are like that sometimes too.

Life is about proving yourself wrong in times of self-doubt.

Dreams do not have to be an if, They can be a when, Not something to be put off till later, But something to be saved till then, The choice is yours, As are the dreams of thou, As when, to when, you will let your THEN, be NOW.

I have no clue what the future holds, what failures are yet to come, my disappointments, or how I’ll die. But it doubt it will be because of pain,. Pain hurts me without a doubt, it haunts me even. But in the end I think it will be hope that does me in.

We all have shadows, the bigger they are, the closer the light.

Without social outliers, we as a society would not know where the “regular” bounds end. And thusly the “normal” order exists as a direct result of the romantically divergent freaks, who live on the outskirts of understanding, amidst the chaos. They are what/who keep our insanity sane. Please thank the strangest person you know

The world today is but a compilation of peoples past dreams made reality.

A good quote is an excerpt of universal truth, in an otherwise speculative work.

The best parts of life sometimes happen when you are waiting to die.

For the acorn to move forward in its life, it must first be severed from everything it has ever known. It must fall from the heights it has struggled so hard to achieve, be cracked open, and have the very core of its being exposed to the world. All this in the name of life, for the sake of living.

The further from civilization you get, the louder your whispers become.

Let your malcontent for a melancholy life be known, rebellion is the chaos of our nature.

Everyone has their own path or style, In our own ways we're all in a race to self-destruction.

Coincidence is hindsight epiphanized.

We outsource human interaction with likes and pokes on facebook. We forego meaningful person to person conversation with instant messaging and texts. We trade harsh bitter truths for sweet palatable lies. We exchange feeling for a kind of synthetic numbness, a makeshift apathy. We’re suffering from a self-induced de-evolution of humanity.

The analytical mind, made from shattered pieces. The illogical soul, found in a junk drawer. The optimistic heart, a stray taken in. We are the products of our own creation, We’re Frankenstein, and his Monster, Geppetto, and Pinocchio, Pan, and Hook, Alice and the Hatter, The Kings and Queens of broken things on the island of misfit toys.

The silence of my sanity speaks volumes.

Be hated for your truth, rather than loved for your lies.

Poetry is sometimes cryptic because we don’t always want things easily understood. Painful truth is hard enough as it is, but sometimes we want it to at-least sparkle.

Let the tears you shed today, bloom your flowers of tomorrow.

Others see you as a storm, I see you as a rainbow yet to show itself.

Driving yourself crazy is faster than walking.

I play my music loud to keep my demons away.

If God does not have a sense of humor then I think it’s safe to say I was made by the devil.

Words can be kisses, or words can be daggers. The weight they carry is regulated by the power you give them, thus is the impact they have upon you.

You give up your right to care for someone if you let them go, Or so that’s the lie we often tell ourselves.

Often times, none but the devil know your pain. I speak not of the fires of hell, but the fall from heaven.

Face your monsters in life. Dance with your demons. Just remember not to let them lead.

There are two things. 1- Logic,. 2- How life actually works.

Poetry is about finding the best way to plagiarize the reader’s ideas, thoughts, emotions, feelings and memories, their past present or future states of mind.

Poetry can be a form of restriction. Lock away tragedy inside pretty words. Quantify pieces of infinite love.

If scarcity defines value, why do those who feel worthless want to be like everyone else?

Comedy was invented to make people forget, That the plays of our lives were originally written as tragedies.

I curse the heavens for letting the stars fall, I curse myself for not being there to catch them.

We are but masterpieces waiting to happen, searching for our inspiration.

You can’t stand up, help, save, change, love, have hope, have faith, or believe in yourself, if you don’t know who it is you are.

Doubt can be the seed of destruction, Just as Hope can be that of creation.

The world fell from the palm of your hands, as you were counting on your fingers the ways in which you'd change it.

In birth we are but a blank canvas, waiting to be filled in by the scars we make, the blood we bleed, the tears we shed, the words that imprint upon us.

I fight with the urge to be poetically vague like a fleeting rainfall, and the craving to be analytically thorough like a flood.

A problem with living in past memories is, it ends up eventually leading to the present moment that you're trying so hard to escape from.

Until you learn from your mistakes, you will fail in the same ways.

Star crossed lovers” A term used to describe two souls whose love is doomed to end in tragedy. Why? Because they defy the ethereal wisdom of the universe, the ancient laws of which are written in the constellations themselves. These people are by no means evil, it’s just that they together create a power that rivals that of any other, and it's that power in the end that ultimately destroys them.

Hope and faith are two ends of the belief spectrum.

Those who think we only have five senses clearly have no imagination.

We sometimes demonstrated a kind of destructive elegance, as we fight to kill that which makes us unique.

If you don’t learn to laugh at yourself, You'll miss out on a lot of good jokes in life.

Liquor stars, and shot glass wishes. Here’s to drowning memories, and the sorrows that learned to swim.

Let your words be music, allow your actions to be the dance to accompany them.

Love is the most ancient form of self-destruction,

Perched upon the razors edge of ambiguity sits the words. Friendship, Trust, Forever, Love, Truth.

It’s better to have a light heart and a dark mind than for the opposite to be true.

Dreams leave our minds at night, From there they go about floating carelessly through the ethereal planes until they freeze into a crystal formation. Then they fall slowly back to earth, that's why no two snowflakes are the same.

Flowers live their lives with or without our approval, look how beautiful they are for it.

Sometimes the life we know dies, and we are left to start again in the afterworld.

Life is a series of music, live for the crescendo.

Mental attrition drives you insane. Emotional contrition drives you crazy. Together they drive you to madness.

My secrets and wishes are between me and the stars that choose to listen.

I feel too much, I leave too much unsaid, I think too much, I chew on words unspoken, jagged edges carve me up, gnashing away at my insides. From my mouth falls broken bits, Sometimes its poetry. Sometimes its blood and bone.

It didn’t hurt when you let me go; But when you let me hit the ground, that did. That fucking hurt.

To show Bravery is to enter the unknown darkness, knowing there MIGHT BE monsters inside. To show Courage is to enter the unknown darkness, knowing there ARE monsters inside.

There is no egress from madness, no order, and thus no path, sometimes you must lose yourself before you can find your way out.

Having faith in others is easy, having faith in yourself is hard.

Give up on the irrational hopes that your hopelessness will kill you, it won’t, it will just hurt a lot.

The muse of memories past inspires smiles on many a sad faces, tears on many a dry cheek, and warmth of love inside so many cold hearts.

What moments of now will I wish to remember, what memory of yesterday shall I choose to forgo and forget, what choice can I make to bring me forth a true smile, what decisions I make now, will tomorrow I regret?

Sometimes in life we need to go to the closet and grab our skeletons, pile up all those that we have outgrown or those that are no longer “in style” and toss them out, We may keep a few that hold sentimental value, but we are asked to please toss out all those that no longer fit us. Spring cleaning for the soul.

Strap a casket to your face every morning to make your reflection more palatable to the rest of the world, bury alive who you truly are under the dirt of the disguise, another body in another unmarked grave joins the ranks of the rotting masses of the masquerade graveyard. I guess we’re all killers in our own right.

A person can only stave off the impending magic-less fantasy for so long by themselves, before they succumb to it and it becomes their reality. The stardust flicker that glows inside us is not meant to shine alone, and so there are those who fight the good fight in attempt to gather together and forge magic into our realities. Poetic entendre, lapsing into oblivion, suffocating on internal truth with no hope of outside lies.

Life is no more than a series of questions, Our experiences are but the manifestation of how and in what order we attempt to answer them.

There is something to be said about the impressionable and lasting power of nightmares, opposed to those of dreams or fantasies in regards to the secret inner workings of our developing minds, humanity, and culture. As to what the secret is?, I am unaware, But the concept sure is intriguing.

We are but Pre-Death beings traveling through the present, headed for our Post-Life existence.

Contrary to popular belief it is in fact NOT "The thought that counts" It's the energy, the will power, and the actions taken in order to bring those thoughts to fruition, the blood sweat and tears you're willing to spill to forge the thought into reality, that count.....Thoughts of action or change are but ethereal nothingness without even the attempt of action to validate their truth, worth, real meaning, and intent.