Little princess, lovely as the dawn, well named Aurore.

That is what love is I thought. A possibility that becomes a choice. A choice you keep making over and over. Day after day. Year after year. Time after time.

Yet even the brightest of sunrises must come to an end.

I had to cease to mourn what could never be and make the most of what was possible. And I would begin doing that by trying to mend the hurts of the past.

Remember that yours is not the only heart that may be wishing for love.

There is a tale...It tells of the days when a blight hung over our land. Nothing prospered. Nothing flourished. Not even zucchini would grow.

Maybe all young men who love us become knights in shining armor when we love them back.

...to be unkind because you are thoughtless is the worst kind of blindness.

All of us show many faces to the world. No one shows her true face all of the time. To do that would be dangerous, for what is seen can also be known.

For surely a king is first a man. And so it must follow that a king does as all men do: the best he can.

Really believing in "once upon a time". Believing that it will draw you in, take you with me to a place you've never been before.

Friendship is not a gift, but is the result of hard work.

You really don't have to burn any bridges to let go... You don't have to destroy anything. You can just decide to cross over and move on.

One of the greatest lesson is humility. Humility is like oxygen to the soul. You won’t get too far without it!

I'm not afraid of being thought of as someone who is associated with film music. Why not? If it's a good song, what does it matter?

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

It's a ho wide world that we living in.

Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave - The water below is as dark as the grave, And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat - It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat

I feel constricted if I become too much aware of the act of making. Liberty is lost and instead of an instinctual lyrical expression the whole thing becomes arid.

In England, pop music seems now to be exclusively for children. If an artist is no good, why is it necessary to have that artist repeatedly rammed in our face?

Men, their rights, and nothing more; women, their rights, and nothing less.