The words come at my call but who calls whom?

Darkness as well as light. Or do I mean darkness, another kind of light? Lucifer would say so, and I have a weakness for fallen angels.

I know from my own experience that suicide is not what it seems. Too easy to try to piece together the fragmented life. The spirit torn in bits so that the body follows.

I dream of flight, not to be as the angels are, but to rise above the smallness of it all. The smallnesss that I am. Against the daily death the iconography of wings.

Saddest of all are the woman who were brought up to believe that self-sacrifice is the highest female virtue.

Examine this statement: ‘A woman cannot be a poet.’ Dr Samuel Johnson (Englishman 1709-84 Occupation: Language Fixer and Big Mouth.) What then shall I give up? My poetry or my womanhood?

But if what can exist does exist, is memory invention or is invention memory?

Look up. This is the season of shooting stars. Light, two thousand years old, still dazzling. Let me see your face. Your face lit up by twenty centuries.

I think therefore I am. Does that mean 'I feel therefore I'm not'? But only through feeling can I get at thinking.

Time: Change experienced and observed. Time measured by the angle of the turning earth as it rotates through its axis. The earth turning slowly on its spit under the fire of the sun.

Fall for me, as an apple falls, as rain falls, because you must. Use gravity to anchor your desire.

Nothing can stop a lie whose fashion has come...

Start shaping your own day. Start walking your own walk. This journey is yours, take charge of it. Stop giving other people the power to shape your life.

A beautiful woman is one with a beautiful heart. She may be covered with mud or sores but only her foot fit the glass slipper.

They drink from streams whose waters taste like tears, and indeed each swallow fills them with a few heartbeats of deep sadness.

Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.

I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.

Your heart is not living intil it has experienced pain... the pain of love breaks open the heart, even if it is as hard as a rock.

My arrogance knows no bounds and I will make no peace today, and you should be so lucky to find a woman like me.

I was raised Catholic in the Midwest, so I cant enjoy anything.

I can't throw books away. My wife is always telling me to get rid of some.