I exaggerateThere is a lie in my truthLook! My soul is blue

I can't remember the poemThat pierced through my heartIt was the saddest I heardOf all truths ever spokenIt left a scar in meA wound that doesn't healBut the words are forgottenSo is a big part of me

I read for pleasureIn search of fictional worldsTo enrich my truths

Blank pages are cruelPure torture in white or beigeBut how else to start

I crouch in cornersThe infection is widespreadLove epidemic

No music in the raindropsNo clouds with silver liningTorrents of sorrowsHorror in streams

I gave up many times but I never quit.

I'm bugged because I can't believe I can't speak every language there is. But I feel I can when I sit and am with somebody, and I can dance for them. Because dance is dialogue without language.

Now record companies are run by lawyers and accountants. The shift from the one to the other was definitely related to when the takes started to get big.

Every heart without Christ is a mission field; Every heart with Christ is a missionary by vocation.

Absence of pain makes anything possible

I'm interested in music as an extension of character.

An executive should be a realist; and no one is less realistic than the cynic.

The shape I'm in, I could donate my body to science fiction.

The developed world should be willing to help [Africa] and support her and make this energy affordable.

Cheerily to sea; the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France