Thoughts as warm as a silky summer rain, flowing over the edge of my soul's gentle.not tides returning them along the shoreline to laughing gulls.

There is a light within our soul that burns brighter than the sun. And we ignore it.

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Most of my beholders are blind.

I want to douse myself in silver words and whisper away all rue.

After a breath and before another, there's plenty of time to rest.

LOOK AT MY BLOOD FLOWERS, BECAUSE I WRITE WITH A SERENE SHARP BLADE THAT SOOTHES. AS MUCH AS CUTS INTO THE DEEPEST PARTS OF MY SOUL.

Even dead fallen leaves go a long way with the wind before getting crushed.

All these mirrorscarnival distortionsof selves we never were.

We all have our safe places, where none are invited. They are lonely rooms full of the musk of memory. Sanctuary rather than adventure.

My father spoke with his hands. He was deaf. His voice was in his hands. And his hands contained his memories.

The world perishes not from bandits and fires, but from hatred, hostility, and all these petty squabbles.

Being on a mission-not thinking about myself and focusing on serving other people-is what brought me closer to God than anything else.

Government has no place telling you who to fall in love with and who to marry.

Our love cannot be measured, it just is.

The political satirist usually votes against their own interests, but the bottom line is that it doesn't really matter.

My hands and ears get me where I need to go.

For example, I wouldn't hesitate to sit somebody down if he wasn't performing, even if he was the No. 1 player in the world. I've been sat down before.

Clean air is a basic right. The responsibility to ensure that falls to Congress and the president.

God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.