Under the penitential gatesSustained by staring SeraphimWhere the souls of the devoutBurn invisible and dim.

Honest criticism and sensible appreciation are directed not upon the poet but upon the poetry.

music heard so deeplyThat it is not heard at all, butyou are the musicWhile the music lasts.

My grandmother, a dim, stern figure, named her children Lily and Violet, which I guess from seeing a picture of my mother's paved, ugly backyard, was the nearest she came to a garden.

There's no heaven on earth. God would have to guide her through the problems.

don't fly too close to the sun, " Tess Calls. "you'll burn the tips of your wings. Stay right with me. i'll keep you safe.

Proclaim not all thou knowest, all thou knowest, all thou hast, nor all thou cans't.

I just love to sing, so like my dad's advice when I was younger - anytime you get a chance to sing, just go out there and do it! I truly just love the actual singing.

I open my arms wide and declare with love that I deserve and accept all good!

I love when I can reboot people when they are being mean to others.

If I could just touch the hem of His garment I know I'll be made whole

It may look as though two chess players are sitting at the board peacefully calculating possibilities, but in actuality they are seething with a kaleidoscope of emotions.

Wherever you go you will find your teacher, as long as you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.