I still love the sound of breaking, the tearing of the page

A poem should be odd as a small cast-iron platypus.

There are no ordinary feelings. Just as there are no ordinary spring days or kicked over cans of paint.

You are made of bent coat hangers, honey, gravel, epoxy and handstands. I am made of lying on the floor, the same song on repeat.

Here is a semi-transparent pebble I picked up on the way to my EKG. Probably worthless but it is my heart so take it.

Just because you’ve had enough doesn’t mean you wanted too much.

Go down any road far enough and you'll come to a slaughterhouse, but keep going and you'll reach the sea.

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, but now I want a Russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping.

Hark, dumbass, the error is not to fall but to fall from no height. Don't fall off a curb, fall off a cliff.

Just because we have birds inside us, we don't have to be cages.

You want happy endings, read cookbooks.

I sometimes find myself sitting here not watching an uninteresting movie and contemplating the future. I don't always know what to do, but I have faith that I'll figure it out somehow.

The more we read, the more we learn.

I've made six films since I made Secrets and Lies but I still live in London and I'd love to do theater.

Aspen is the life to live, see how much there is to give. See how strongly you believe, see how much you may receive.

Sure I have a cell-phone, so I don't have to remember everyone's number anymore, but that really wasn't a core part of my brain.

It will be difficult to let go but it is going to happen sooner rather than later in my case.

The sheen of ocean gleams on the blue fish-plate.

To thee only God granted A heart ever new: To all always open; To all always true.

All of our energy should be in sacrifice and services. Suffering, at least.

The more inventory a company has, the less likely they will have what they need.