There are parts of me I only recognize from photographs.

Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.

This world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's going to call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me.

It does not matter how strong your gravity is, we were always meant to fly.

Most days it feels as if the world is whirling around me and I am standing still. In slow motion, I watch the colors blur; people and faces all become a massive wash.

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you've done something wrong but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

Not all poetry wants to be storytelling. And not all storytelling wants to be poetry. But great storytellers and great poets share something in common: They had something to say, and did.

Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night.

You can only fit so many words in a postcard, only so many in a phone call, only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.

I think there is a human instinct to tell stories, no matter who you are or where you live.

A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

Life isn't memorable enough to remember everything. It's not like there are explosions all the time, or dog smoking cigarettes.

...you have to cherish the world at the same time that you struggle to endure it.

In terms of coke, the only money I ever thought about was that dollar bill I had stuck up my nose.

I developed a reputation as a "hothead" because I got in the face of a lot of reporters and they thought I was just a hotheaded person. What they didn't understand was that I was motivated by love.

A lot happens by accident in poetry.

Why should I? I've done nothing to be ashamed of. I am not ashamed - I am only beaten

Each struggle, each defeat, sharpens your skills and strengths, your courage and your endurance, your ability and your confidence.

Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.

We must keep these waters for wild rice, these trees for maple syrup, our lakes for fish, and our land and aquifers for all of our relatives - whether they have fins, roots, wings, or paws.