She speaks in heartbeats and the rises of her chest, words forever seared in thoughts that will never rest.

Though I exist in the realms of day and night, I'm only truly alive in the moments between.

And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

I was lost in the moments I decided to keep. To be awake in a dreamless sleep. And in that place between dream and sleep, I planted some more things I would like to keep.

She's an array of undiscovered words, of feeling beyond my threshold. I'm just a man, trying to hold himself together in her wake.

The flicker, the flutter, even thoughts can stutter.

It was her eyes. Soft, meadow-shade eyes with frostbitten edges. Every glance casually held gossamer infinity. Every stare revealed inky black abyss with a hint of divinity.

Woven words are little conviction when I present myself as a man of fiction.

She was carmine shadows reflecting from my crimson words. Every pulse sent a velvet ripple through the shade. Every breath, a scarlet pause.

With ravenous passion and reckless ambition he forged his thoughts into words, obsessed with the notion that dying would not be the last thing he would do.

He gave up. No hint of ember behind his eyes nor life in his breath. He snipped the last, overstretched strand of hope, and nicked the strand of life by mistake. He did it with his hands.

We need people in our lives with whom we can be as open as possible. To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.

Atheism is a way of humility. It's to think oneself to be an animal, as we are actually and to allow oneself to become human.

Realize that your gift does not only belong to you

[American] liberalism today sees no realm of human life that is beyond political significance, from what you eat to what you smoke to what you say.

A Poet never denies creativity entrance.

That of all people, it should be him; that took her aback. That the heart should settle on somebody like him; that surprised her. But she was so certain about it, so certain.

A financer is a pawnbroker with an imagination.

Whether we like it or not, men and women are not the same in nature, temperament, emotions and emotional responses.

Rightly viewed no meanest object is insignificant; all objects are as windows through which the philosophic eye looks into infinitude itself.

A Covenant not to defend my selfe from force, by force, is always voyd.