notesfrompelle's profile picture. Too deep for small talk, so I turned it into poetry 🌹 Quotes ✍️ | Healing 🤍 | Philosophy of the soul 🌌 #writer #poet #poetry

Notes from Pelle | Poetry & Quotes

@notesfrompelle

Too deep for small talk, so I turned it into poetry 🌹 Quotes ✍️ | Healing 🤍 | Philosophy of the soul 🌌 #writer #poet #poetry

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The love that changes you doesn’t knock. It lingers, without asking to be let in. It watches the parts of you you’ve learned to hide. It stays through the stillness without naming it. Like the sea finding every shore you've hidden, it arrives without force and names nothing a…

notesfrompelle's tweet image. The love that changes you
doesn’t knock.
It lingers,
without asking to be let in.

It watches the parts of you
you’ve learned to hide.
It stays through the stillness
without naming it.

Like the sea finding every shore you've hidden,
it arrives without force 
and names nothing a…

Some books don’t just tell stories—they lend us better eyes to see life with.


Even light needs darkness to understand what mercy means.


You can’t drown in depth— you just learn to breathe differently.


Even silence burns— it’s just sound that learned patience.


Every sunrise is proof the universe forgives easily.


Even mistakes sometimes spell miracles backward.


The universe never repeats itself— but it does rhyme.


You don’t have to be the light— just leave one on for someone else.


You don’t outgrow wonder— you just forget its password.


The moon never competes— she shines when it’s her turn.


Art’s the rebellion against emotional extinction.


You’re not starting over—you’re beginning with context.


You make stillness feel like movement, and movement feel like poetry.


Darkness gives you something to fight; light gives you nothing to hide behind. That’s the paradox.


We read because sometimes stories understand us before people do.


Becoming and unbecoming are just different forms of devotion.


It’s wild that emotion became language, and we call it art.


You didn’t enter my life — you unfolded it gently, like dawn teaching the sky how to forgive the night.


I stopped chasing clarity. The blur was honest. It never pretended to know me.


You weren’t wrong to trust—just generous in your belief.


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