Buddy Wakefield Quotes

The future gets no say in who we are.

Pretend – inside your skin – you've got a friend, who's willing to give you everything you ever wanted in exchange for all you've ever been.

Stop inviting walls into wide open spaces.

I should have told You before talking in terms of Forever that any given day wears me out and works me sour, that there are nights when the sky is so clear I stand obnoxious underneath it begging for the stars to shoot at me just so I can feel at Home.

The truth is that this universe is gassy and unpredictable. It still has not said excuse me for The Big Bang. Sometimes we expect too much instead of practicing enough or receiving in us just the right answer. You, the Staggering Answer

What paper planes and empty seats most have in common is that they are best made by children still learning how to ride things out.

A trajectory of misery – at this point – seems intentional. We have all the information we need to see clearly. We are no longer unaware toddlers on the landscape of consciousness. It is no longer cute to crap ourselves.

Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.

I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better.

If you've never been rocked back by the presence of purpose this poem is too soon for you. Return to your mediocrity, plug it into an amplifier and rethink yourself.

The first time my town saw the sky it sucker-punched us in the throat, left us breathless, said, I'm gonna keep you awake some nights without touching you. You'll make it up, the pain, you always do.

Jordan tattoos the words "forgive me" in thick black letters down the inside of his arm so that when he looks at his wrist he will remember not to hate himself so much. What he keeps forgetting is that there is life after survival.

If I didn't have so much of this life all wrong I would have gotten it right by now.

You are the home I point to that lives in my chest.

I'm ready to kill something. I'll probably only get as far as my brain cells, but I am going to kill them.

You can call me an angry ghost when I'm gone, or laugh into my disposition. But my mom will still see me as her wide-eyed wanderer out behind the garage inventing ways to fend off dog attacks that will probably never happen.

You're not the only piece of patchwork birds can pull worms from.

Everything is out there. That's why they call it everything.

Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.

I would fall in love with you if you would beat these people out of me.

Even good hearts know how to turn bad touch and genocide into clichés just to make room for more comfort.

The best songs are the ones about Georgia, even though I've never been there. It's the only place I still believe in Jesus.

I choose to politely ask myself to step aside if I am in my own way. If I do not get out of my way, I choose to call a friend who will have me removed.

Stop congregating in the valley just because an echo sounds good when it agrees with itself.

How honest is it that we drink until we are dehydrated?

Knowing me is easy. You can still twist your hair and feel silly. Look up the word tacky and have a salad. But when we're together you pull bread apart with your fingers into bites sometimes so small I gotta remind you, Peach, it is okay to be hungry.

If we really do get what we give then I give up, so I can get up.

Everybody knows that smiling is for little girls, the gays and certain kinds of fish who are smiling by accident.

But I still show up for gentleman practice in the company of lead dancers, hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.

There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.

I don't care to be good, Sheriff. I care to be whole.

If we were created in God’s image, then when God was a child he smushed fire ants with his fingertips and avoided tough questions.

What children and the landing of a plane most have in common is that they are best made by a line drive of pilot lights guided through a single tambourine across the day we met in a field of wet metal hands on The Gospel of Lightning.

We both spend our money on things that break too easily like… people.

We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You go ahead, call 9-1-1. Tell them I'm havin' a fantastic time.

...all these kids you can't seem to make sense of would stop holding you so far off the edge of your seats if you'd start holding yourselves to the promises you make. We know you're not perfect, because we're not. And I know I'm not perfect, but I believe I was meant to be.

Love makes no mistakes.

We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.

Every moment is a brand new baby, Baby. Every vow is a brave new voice.

Forte is French… for blanket fort.

You're a free-standing landing pad held together by choir claps.

There was a typewriter buried alive in that horse, the one I road to get out of the flood.

...others, with halos shaped like rollercoasters you'd stand in line to ride twice.