At the blind date, deafen your earsto hear the wordsspoken with her eyes.

Freedom can be an acquired taste for those who have never savored it.

Unless you break free from the shackles of beauty as dictated by the media and society, true beauty will be elusive.

Is a tree any less beautiful because it has lost a limb?

History and beauty lie in the baroque wrinkles of old cathedrals. mosques, synagogues, temples and faces whose stories are told without a single word.

The candy colored coral snake.The iridescent blue-ringed octopus.Décolletage.Beware of conspicuous beauty.Its venom can be deadly.

She walks in beauty.I am trampled by it.She swims in beauty.I drown in it.

Roll in the snow.Shower in the rain.Bask in the sun.Weatherproof your soul.

Hard and dry, a chickpea is inedible.Hard and dry, a heart is unlovable.Presoak it in dance, music and art.

Beholdthe azure sea in front of you, the turquoise sky above you, the amber mountain beneath your feet, and the golden daisy in your hands.How are you not the richest person on earth?

Start a rumor aboutpeace taking over, love being the new black, and compassion going viral.

If you have a strong stomachread on.

Whenever you are depressed, write your signature on a paper and write and write finally you ll have pain in you hand than your mind.

I think making mistakes and discovering them for yourself is of great value, but to have someone else to point out your mistakes is a shortcut of the process.

For me, the most disturbing aspect of the Republican political culture is how it puts its unquenchable thirst for power, domination and a radical ideology above facts, reason and the truth.

The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think.

They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldom gets to speak.

I hope death will be a great happiness, a happiness as great as that of love, fulfilled love

For thousands of years art was seen as a source of responsible moral and ethical leadership. Today, taking that stance is almost seen as comic.

You are all a lost generation," Gertrude Stein said to Hemingway. We weren't lost. We knew where we were, all right, but we wouldn't go home. Ours was the generation that stayed up all night.

What do the contours of your body mean, laid out like the lines on a hand, so that I no longer see them except as fate?