Shane Koyczan Quotes

I've been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 am than I do in an entire day But if I wake at 6:59 am and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine I will have done enough and killed no one in the process.

I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up I stand on mountain tops believing that avalanches will teach me to let go I know nothing but I am here to learn.

If your heart is broken, make art with the pieces.’ [Blueprint for a Breakthrough (2013)]

Don't let your luggage define your travels, each life unravels differently.

Don't tell me you're not beautiful. You're the kind of beautiful the blind would see if we could figure out some way to give them three seconds of sight.

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them.

I will love myself despite the ease with which I lean toward the opposite.

I don't want to turn any of this into poetry / but / you're so beautiful / flowers turn their heads to smell you

and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself get a better mirror look a little closer stare a little longer because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed it “they were wrong

We so seldom understand each other. But if understanding is neither here nor there, and the universe is infinite, then understand that no matter where we go we will always be smack dab in the middle of nowhere. All we can do is share some piece of ourselves, and hope that it’s remembered. Hope that we meant something to someone

I sit before flowers 
hoping they will train me in the art 
of opening up

And you are worth the time it takes to take the time to get to know you. We've managed to muttle through the awkward stage of i like you and you like me, but when we both finally said 'yes' life became a multiple choice test, not knowing anything we became each others best guess. and, holding your hand is less like exploration and more like discovery. lady, i don't have to study you to be sure. you're the choice i made before i knew what the other choices were

A question like “do you love me?” was an itch our doctors told us not to scratch.

Sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity.

My heart is a protest that I let rally against my ribs.

You see, the deaf have an intimacy with silence. It’s there in their dreams.

I can't stop.

What I said was I’ll miss you what I meant to say was I love you what I wanted to say was that I meant what I said and it’s funny how all those things I could have said flooded my head after we said goodbye and I should have told you I’d be willing to hold you until my flesh crumbles into bone because I’m willing to die alone but god knows I don’t want to live that way.

To discover the thing you're brilliant at you first have to endure realizing all the things you're average at.

Someone once told me that the finer points of devotion are about the size of a pinhole, and there are millions of them. And if you could connect each dot, then you’ve got a diagram of what you think you thought you knew, and if you’re willing to admit that you know nothing…you have the blueprint for a breakthrough.

And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit.

but I want to tell them that all of this shit is just debris leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself get a better mirror look a little closer stare a little longer because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed it “they were wrong” because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it you have to believe that they were wrong they have to be wrong

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called and we got called them all so we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us that we’d be lonely forever that we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed so broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away that there’s no way for it to metastasize it does

He tried to kill himself in grade ten, when a kid who still had his mom and dad had the audacity to tell him ‘Get over it’. As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents in a first aid-kit.

I was never meant to be this thing...

Look directly into every mirror. Realize our reflection is the first sentence to a story, and our story starts: We were here.

How can you hold your ground when everyone around you is trying to bury you beneath it?

I you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer, stare a little longer. Because there is something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, you signed it THEY WERE WRONG.

I do my best impression of a pen and when every problem looks like a page I commit ink to paper

And as for romance? Well, I want that too. I want to fall asleep next to you, 100 times a night, so I can know you 100 times better before we hit the day light. And despite all of this, I also want amnesia so I can relive each kiss with a perfect newness that leaves me smashed in the arms of rapture. I want the sky to fracture under the impossible weight of an apology because I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I want so much. I'm sorry that I'm using "I'm sorry" as a crutch to lean on for so long but if you sing me that song of sweet logic again then I promise to make the effort to stand on my own. There is a reason that our hearts are more like a muscle and less like a bone. I've known so many people who've have grown up flexing in front of mirrors and falling for their own reflection as if that's adequate but that's bullshit. Because we only get now until the time we go and if they've only got time to love themselves then nobody is going to be around to hear the sound of their heartbeat echo. So lady, don't expect an apology when I tell you I'm only held together by a heart that pumps blue, it's the strongest muscle in my body and I'm flexing it for you

everything she meant to say was you've given a worth and happiness to my life that I had no right to believe could ever exist

We somehow must become what we are not, sacrificing what we are, to inherit the masquerade of what we will be.

I've been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 am than I do in an entire day But if I wake at 6:59 am and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine I will have done enough and killed no one in the process.

The truth is there’s not enough miracles to go around, kid. And there’s too many people petitioning God for the winning lotto ticket. And for every answered prayer, there’s a cricket with arthritis. And the only reason we can’t find answers is because the search party didn’t invite us.

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by space And I learnt that time slows near a black hole. Inside a black hole, time stops altogether. Whether or not this theory will ever be proved, I’m moved to believe this would be the perfect place to love someone.

I smile because there are tiny dreams that play hopscotch at the corners of my mouth, and every time I breathe they float and every time I laugh they fly kites.

We don't always get the answers we want, sometimes a simple look can haunt us enough to know some ghosts need their rest.

i remember how my grandmother tried to explain our world to me she told me a story she said the ground and the sky love each other but they don't have arms so rain is how they hold one another.

Beethoven his thoughts moving at the speed of sound transforming emotion into music and for a moment it was like joy was a tangible thing like you could touch it like for the first time we could watch love and hate dance together in a waltz of such precision and beauty that we finally understood the history wasn’t important to know the man all we ever had to do was listen.

Scrape the grey sky clean. Realize every grey cloud is a smoke screen to blind us from the truth, and the truth is whether we see them or not the sun and moon are still there, and always there is light.

There’s 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we take has to be given back; a nine year old boy taught me that.

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones. As if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us. That we’d be lonely forever. That we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone.

Try. The tiniest dream that you try to make happen, is worth more than the biggest dream you never attempt.

we used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse

It’s not magic. I remember because I make comparisons. Not in terms of better or worse, just different. And not all of these memories are great, but they’re mine. Which lends way to believe, that none of our lives are put together on an assembly line. We’re not pre-packaged with memories or programmed with stories. We have to make our own.

She tells me about dreams. She says my dreams are helium and balloons, and I've made the mistake of letting go a few to many times, but I still got this one. Tied around my finger like a wedding ring because even though I don't believe in marriages, I'm gonna bring this one home.

So if anyone ever tells you: You're not good enough! You're not smart enough! Give up your foolish dream! If anyone ever tells you to quit, You got to make them wear a diaper on their mouth Because, man, they're just talking shit.

It's not about putting forth the questions, it's about accepting the answers we ask for.

And if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself/ get a better mirror/look a little closer/stare a little long.

Please, sit in my sky and let me polish your shine.

Don't let your luggage define your travels, each life unravels differently.” ― Shane Koyczan   ~Duane~

We are graduating members from the class of we made it, not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me. Of course they did. But our lives will ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.

Be savagely thankful, and continuously in awe of the power you possess. You are alive. Inside of an endless cosmos with the freedom that shines brightest in the dark.. Choices. Your choices belong to you so intimately, that they will never leave you. They, unlike the changing nature of love, where the failing machinery of our bodies will never abandon you to time. Good or bad, they will stay always. An antique that shows the future who you were and what you stood for. So know that what you choose to stand for, is what will inform you of what you've chosen to stand against, so stand. Let each foot crash land into what you believe, and plant them they're firmly so they may take root in your convictions. And stand.

getting over it/ just means getting around it/ and sometimes/ you gotta go through it/ leave it torn and blasted apart

So men and women were born into workers Because ideas like Right and wrong Get outweighed by need Anytime you've got mouths to feed.

You better dust off your etiquette, better sit like you did back at whatever grade that made it clear to you that your teachers are not your parents, and that any mess you made remains your responsibility.

And what I said was I’ll miss you, What I meant to say was that I love you, What I wanted to say was that I meant what I said I miss you like I miss my own bed after too many nights of sleeping on couches or hardwood floors Or sitting silently behind the doors Of hotel rooms became wounds Breathing life in to this loneliness I miss you Like a burn victim must miss their own skin I miss you like a sad ending Must miss someplace new to begin Because some say that the highway becomes a flat line if you travel it for too long I can’t tell if that’s true or false, But I’m racing down it towards you trying to find my Pulse.

Our lives will only ever continue to be a balancing act, that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.

I think of the beauty in the obvious, the way it forces us to admit how it exists, the way it insists on being pointed out like a bloody nose, or how every time it snows there is always someone around to say, “It’s snowing.” But the obvious isn’t showing off, it’s only reminding us that time passes, and that somewhere along the way we grow up. Not perfect, but up and out. It teaches us something about time, that we are all ticking and tocking, walking the fine line between days and weeks, as if each second speaks of years, and each month has years listening to forever but never hearing anything beyond centuries swallowed up by millenniums, as if time was calculating the sums needed to fill the empty belly of eternity. We so seldom understand each other. But if understanding is neither here nor there, and the universe is infinite, then understand that no matter where we go, we will always be smack dab in the middle of nowhere. All we can do is share some piece of ourselves and hope that it’s remembered. Hope that we meant something to someone. My chest is a cannon that I have used to take aim and shoot my heart upon this world. I love the way an uncurled fist becomes a hand again, because when I take notes, I need it to underline the important parts of you: happy, sad, lovely. Battle cry ballistic like a disaster or a lipstick earthquaking and taking out the monuments of all my hollow yesterdays. We’ll always have the obvious. It reminds us who, and where we are, it lives like a heart shape, like a jar that we hand to others and ask, “Can you open this for me?” We always get the same answer: “Not without breaking it.” More often than sometimes, I say go for it.

(...) I don’t remember the way every song goes. I can’t recall ever y person I’ve met. I get names mixed up all the time. I’m terrible with birthdays. But I remember all the ways people have affected me. How our stories became memories. And if you were enough then you’re in there somewhere. Maybe it was a truth or dare kiss, Or a simple act of kindness, one that reminded me to remember this moment and mark it as a memory , so we could both have it to look back on. From this life, I’ve drawn conclusions so big, They can’t fit into the tiny comic book boxes, Because I don’t wanna risk losing the detail, Just so I can make the story fit. It’s not a trick. I remember how things felt. Which in turn makes me remember how things happened. (...) I’m pretty fantastic. It’s not magic. I remember because I make comparisons. Not in terms of better or worse, just different. And not all of these memories are great, but they’re mine. Which lends way to believe, That none of our lives are put together on an assembly line. We’re not pre-packaged with memories or programmed with stories. We have to make our own. (...)

(...) That winter you left me snow-blind trying to find enough details that would let you know that even though some people have perfect sight, those same people could try to paint you by numbers and they still wouldn't get you right. You were Monet number two and Van Gogh number 6, a mix tape of Hendrix and Leibowitz portraits. It makes no sense to me that we were ever together. And my makeshift weather reports were the closest I ever came to telling you how I felt. But you were a lover of the minuscule, you dealt best with details. Weighing our relationship on scales you balanced us out, and always made me feel needed. You always asked me what to wear, and I would stare at you as if for a second I wouldn't answer. Of course, I always did. Hid my affections, and my response: "wear that smile" I said. That one you wear when you see me. That one you wear to bed.

We were here And our memories are as dear to us as every slow motion moment or held breath So remember every instance before death Every first kiss, first dance, near miss, last chance, yes, no, maybe so Let us go the distance once more Let us remember all the moments that were and were not Like the point is something we can get and what we can get is what we got Because all we have are the times between the moments we connect each dot So live and remember Burn like an ember capable of starting fires Like each moment inspires the next Like memories are the context we put ourselves in So that life becomes the next of kin we need to notify in case of a big bang or Extinction level event Let now be our advent Let us live like we meant it Let us burn like we mean it Because this world doesn't give a shit if we end in a train wreck or a car crash If our story ends with a dot or dash If we were dust or ash Because all we were is all we’ll be And all we are is the in-between of so far, so good So forget every would, could, or should not Forget remembering how we forgot Live like a plot twist exists now and in memory Because we burn bright Our light leaves scars on the sun Let no one say we will be undone by time's passing The memories we are amassing will stand as testament That somehow we bent minds around the concept That we see others within ourselves That self-knowledge can't be found on bookshelves So who we are has no bearing on how we appear Look directly into every mirror Realize our reflection is the first sentence to a story And our story starts: "We were here."

I'm willing to die alone, but god knows I don't want to live that way.

If you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror.

Don't let your luggage define your travels, each life unravels differently.” ​— ​Shane Koyczan

The story of our lives unfolds only once, and each time a page is turned, we force ourselves into knowing that we can never edit or rewrite our past. We move closer and closer to an ending. And we can only hope that when we read ourselves, the story will unfold lucidly enough to teach us something.

...we want to live up to what we believe ourselves to be live up to each quality we value kind compassionate honest true strong free if we ever become who we hope we are it will be because we see how far there is still to go and we know that if we are not these things to everyone then we are none of these things if the world brings a challenge to one of us it brings it to us all we rise and fall together

We wear our lives Like costumes Use bills and coins like props In an over budget production That we cannot seem to stop So it just goes on like this As if we accept this As if we've all become Buddhas of mass production Our brains rotting Like teeth Under the sweet Unending bliss of false enlightenment.

Remember how we forgot? Once upon a time, we were young Our dreams hung like apples Waiting to be picked and peeled And hope was something needing to be reeled-in So we can fill the always empty big fish bin with the one that got away And proudly say that "this time, impossible is not an option" Because success is so akin to effort and opportunity they could be related So we took chances We figure skated on thin ice Believed that each slice of life was served with something sweet on the side And failure was never nearly as important as the fact that we tried That in the war against frailty and limitation We supplied the determination it takes to make ideas and goals the parents of Possibility And we believe ourselves to be members of this family Not just one branch on one tree But a forest whose roots make up a dynasty

And if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself Get a better mirror Look a little closer Stare a little longer Because there's something inside you That made you keep trying Despite everyone who told you to quit

2 Seconds I remember the second I started loving you it was the second before I wrote you this poem.

he could say the crickets have arthritis he could say I love you to break the silence could tell her that there are jellyfish that would grow spines just for an opportunity to walk on land stop at her feet and kiss her toes

so I leave you to get on top as I lie on my back for you because reality comes hard and perhaps I can cushion the blow for one of us

and if by the end you haven't hurt me then you didn't try so I do my best impression of a surgeon going in cutting purple hearts out of my own use my veins like thread and have them sewn to our skin like medals because when the bleeding stops and the dust settles all we have are our wounds to wear like decorations upon our chest Sara does her best impression of a war tells me not to count my pride among the casualties because maybe faith means never keeping score

For The Woman