Jm Storm Quotes

She is a beautiful piece of broken pottery, put back together by her own hands. And a critical world judges her cracks while missing the beauty of how she made herself whole again.

Magic happens when you don't give up, even when you want to. The universe always falls in love with a stubborn heart.

Sometimes she needs a certain space, like we all do. A place where we go silent and become deaf to the world around us and then we hear. We hear the whispers of our soul.

She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.

You deserve to be loved and to be missed. You deserve to have someone who notices the emptiness in the air when you're not around

She had a way of making you look at things differently. A way of making you close your eyes and see with your heart

It is not enough to dream, you must act. Without action, a door is just a wall.

Wait for someone who loves you differently. One who can see the fire in your soul, the child in your laugh and the ocean in your heart.

Maybe life is about learning a better goodbye. Learning to let go of the ones we love with nothing but love

No, you're not wrong to expect a love that respects and values you for the person you are. You're wrong to expect anything less.

It’s so peaceful. I could go to sleep in here.” His eyes flickered to me once more, and for a dizzying second I wasn’t thinking about sleep or storms but about pressing my lips to his. I gave my head a slight shake and tried to slow my pulse

She had bits of soul in everything. From her laugh to her tears and in a world of plastic smiles and corrugated feelings, you couldn't help but feel it.

All the rainbow banners were still there; the storm [Katrina] had left them intact. Interesting that the gay and bawdy sections of town were the parts least damaged, since some of the so-called religious people were claiming this to be God's punishment for our sinful ways. Perhaps they believed in a god of poor planning.

hers is an old fashioned heart that holds timeless love.she's a three age love letter in a world of relationship status updates.

What is meant to find you, will always find you. Sometimes our heart aches because of our own timetable.

She was finally ok, or at least she believed. She had no idea where she was going, but she sure knows where she's been and anywhere was better than that.

She became dangerous to them when she no longer needed or cared for their approval.

And eventually you realize that real love comes down to feeling safe enough to be vulnerable

Before you pass judgement on one who is self destructing, it’s important to remember they usually aren’t trying to destroy themselves. They are trying to destroy something inside that doesn’t belong. -JM Storm-

She sits at the edge of the ocean just to think as she watches the waves break. She's done that more so as she's gotten older and the way life has thrown so much at her. Because that's the place where shallow ends and deep begins.

Wherever the storms are…Dark Lightning goes.

And I need you. Not in the ways of survival, but in the ways that make life worth living.

I am deep. therefore you can't wade in the kiddie pool and expect to find me." - Alfa "And I've never wanted to drown until now." - JmStorm

Sometimes falling apart is the way we shake loose the pieces that just don't belong anymore. It's as natural as the wind and rain. So cry if your need to. Scream if you must. But never lose sight of what it really is. A thunderstorm that clears the air.

You’re having a bad day. You mess up a few lines. You’re distracted. You’ve had this look about you all afternoon, like you’re not quite there. “Christ, Cunningham, get it together,” Hastings says, running his hands down his face. “If you can’t handle being Brutus—” “Fuck you.” You cut him off. “Don’t act like you’re perfect.” “I don’t make rookie mistakes,” Hastings says. “Maybe if you weren’t so preoccupied with trying to screw the new girl, you might—” BAM. You shut him up mid-sentence with a punch to the face, your fist connecting hard, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbles, stunned, as you go at him again, grabbing the collar of his uniform shirt and yanking him to you. “Shut your fucking mouth.” People come between the two of you, forcing you apart. Hastings storms out, shouting, “I can’t deal with him!” Drama Club comes to a screeching halt. You stand there for a moment, fists clenched at your side, calming down. You flex your hands, loosening them as you approach the girl. She’s watching you in silence, expression guarded. You sit down near her. There’s an empty seat between you today. It’s the first time you’ve not sat right beside her in weeks. You’re giving her space. It doesn’t take long before Hastings returns, but he isn’t alone. The administrator waltzes in behind him. The man heads for you, expression stern. “Cunningham, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t expel you.” “Because my father gives you a lot of money.” “That’s what you have to say?” “Is that not a good reason?” “You punched a fellow student!” “We were just acting,” you say. “I’m Brutus. He’s Caesar. It’s to be expected.” “Brutus stabs him. He doesn’t throw punches.” “I was improvising.” The girl laughs when you say that. She tries to stop herself, but the sound comes out, and the administrator hears it, his attention shifting to her. “Look, it won’t happen again,” you say, drawing the focus back to you. “Next time, I’ll stab him and be done with it.” “You better watch yourself,” the administrator says, pointing his finger in your face. “One more incident and you’re gone for good. Understand?” “Yes, sir.” “And rest assured, your father will be hearing about this

Knightmare. Breezeo’s archenemy. Where Breezeo is light, a breath of fresh air, the nice breeze on a warm summer day, Knightmare is the storm that rolls in and takes it all away. Darkness, thick and suffocating, the shadows you can’t escape in the night in back alleyways. Black leather framed with dark armor, head to toe, from the combat boots the whole way up to the oversized black hood with a metal mask covering part of the face, rendering him unrecognizable. I’ve always been envious of the costume. Beats the damn pseudo-spandex, that’s for sure. “I, uh, wow.” Kennedy stands in the doorway of her apartment with a look of awe as her eyes scan the costume. “That’s just… wow.” “Wow, huh?” I glance down. “Good or bad?” “It’s just, uh, you know…” “Wow?” I guess. She nods, fighting off a smile. “Wow.” I smirk. “It’s the original.” “Seriously?” “Straight from the second movie,” I say, touching an armored chest plate with a fingerless glove-clad hand. “Well, except for these gloves. The real ones wouldn’t fit because of the cast, so I had to improvise.” “It’s, uh…” “Wow?” “Nice,” she says, touching the costume, fingertips grazing the armor. “Kind of weird seeing you like this, but still, it’s nice.” “Thanks,” I say as she steps aside for me to come in the apartment. “I talked them into letting me borrow it. Might not give it back, though. I’m kind of enjoying it.” “You should keep it,” she says, her eyes still scanning me as she closes the door. “It’s, uh…” “Nice?” “Wow.” She smiles playfully as she walks away. “I need to finish getting ready for work. Maddie, you've got a visitor!” A moment after Kennedy disappears, Madison runs in. She skids to a stop when she spots me, eyes wide, mouth popping open. “Whoa.” I push the hood off, shoving the mask up, her expression changing when she sees it’s me, face lighting up. She runs right at me, slamming into me so hard I stumble. I laugh as she hugs me. “Hey, pretty girl.” She looks up at me. “You think I’m pretty?” “What? Of course.” I kneel next to her, grinning as I press a finger to the tip of her nose. “You look like your mom.” “You think Mommy’s pretty, too?” “I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world.” Her expression shifts rapidly when I say that before her eyes widen. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne?” I lean closer, whispering, repeating her words. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne.” “Whoa

If it's that ails you, I tell you there's little hurt getting old, though young girls and poets do be storming at the shapes of age. (Passionately.) There's little hurt getting old, saving when you're looking back, the way I'm looking this day, and seeing the young you have a love for breaking up their hearts with folly. (Going to Deirdre.) Take my word and stop Naisi, and the day'll come you'll have more joy having the senses of an old woman and you with your little grandsons shrieking round you, than I'd have this night putting on the red mouth and the white arms you have, to go walking lonesome byways with a gamey king.

Rain fell from the overcast sky in sporadic bursts, quick manic showers followed by moments of nothingness. The weatherman on channel six had predicted a calm day, but the woman knew better. A tumultuous storm was rolling in. There was no way to avoid it.

She sees in black and white, thinks in grey but loves in color

Chase Crazy Dreams Not Crazy People.

One day it happened. At the train station I set your baggage down that I was carrying for so long. And I left a note with my ticket for whoever to find that read; I don't belong there, I never did. And these aren't mine. They never were.