Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so. Love, only Love.

And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.

Like mimic meteors the snow, In silence out of Heaven sifts.

Out of the scabbard of the night By God's hand drawn Flashes his shining sword of light And lo the dawn!

The wild places are where we began. When they end, so do we.

Since we have been primed to think of the subconscious as a closet of monsters to be avoided, we tend to fear it. Thus, we avoid the unconscious storage room where the creative solution is hidden.

People don’t need you to fix them, they are not broken, just serve them.

Father says hot water can be as stimulating as an alcoholic drink and though I never come by one...I can well believe it.

Well, I'm working all the time to stay out of trouble!

I used up every cent I had earned as an actress.

Far more disturbing than any spook house at an amusement park is a ride through the old hometown if you've been away for years.

It's impossible not to be taken in by the spectacle of oneself, which is the biggest sin of the culture right now.

People naturally change a lot during their 20s, so my songs reflect that progression.

I would never feel confident enough to express my views and opinions as the right ones because I just don't think that's possible. There are so many sides to everything that nobody is right or wrong.