Wait for it to rain and then go out into the street.

The only thing I know about me is that it is you.

lips, red, ruby, like the blood, like the voice.

Music repairs us when it breaks the silence.

She is his word his love she brings the blood back to his lips.

Everything is blood and vines. The mark of another day of revolving the body exact And the sky is ours our hope our blue our silence our throat of burning wildflowers.

Hit me with spit on the wounds.

Finding yourself with your loves gives blood to existence, looking at one another seeing the universe.

The edge of the sea masks a clock that marks the waves.

Loving you is kissing the night, exposing the scars, words in flames, for every drop and for every life.

free fall to your quite smile to capture you and you propel me to death, all that we write destroys then heals

There comes a time in a man's life when he hears the call of the sea. If the man has a brain in his head, he will hang up the phone immediately.

The heart is wiser than the intellect.

Temple. One other word is equal in importance to a Latter-day Saint. Home. Put the words holy temple and home together, and you have described the house of the Lord!

I mean, moderation, not deprivation. That's my new way of living.

I think everything should be in verse. 'The New York Times' should be in verse.

Step by step, one by one, higher and higher. Step by step, rung by rung, climbing Jacob's ladder.

Waffles are just awesome bread.

Music touching my soul, the spirit dance was unfolding.

And everybody has the motivation to be that killer.

It was a typical day of suckage and blowage.’ (Chris)