I feel every medium of art needs to heal to some degree. It can't live in it's own void, and this came from my earliest experiences as a young refugee.

I've been to Asia, but I'd love to go to Thailand. I'd love to go to some rural areas in China.

Poetry is a lyrical insinuation. Often, its melodic subtlety kisses the subconscious mind.

In the end we're all searching for our home, that one place where we belong.

There's a condensed softness about the Albanian people, and I've witnessed examples of their hospitality.

I love making pizza with cauliflower dough. Again, can't taste the difference once you add enough ingredients.

We stalk the truth as poets, sensualists, a duality, limited insanity. We labor in our muse, carving alphabets of experience into our hearts.

As poets, our lamentations are glorious, filled with the virtues angles would learn to envy.

I would like my books to stand as a tool to unbind children from expectations of poetry because it should free the child to self-expression and exploration.

We have such a finite amount of hours on this planet, and there is just no excuse for living a mundane, predictable life in life.

Although I was calm as a child, I had this restlessness about me–this need and hunger to create my own world. Poetry filled that void, and its words fed that vital necessity of ownership.

The will to rise when you fall is fortitude to success.

In your 20s you can be pretty, but you don't accomplish real beauty until you find wisdom and depth.

All I know, is that I feel extremely blessed to be on TV. Its a hard job, but real life is harder. Truth be told, playgrounds can be war zones.

My honor is my loyalty.

I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.

The single biggest threat to man's continued dominance on the planet is the virus.

Art is always, even at its most repulsive, an impassioned cry of love.

Artists make worlds for people to walk through.

In America the word revolutionary is used to sell pantyhose.

I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I, but another whose life is just beginning.