We grooved together with a rhythm so beautiful that I could feel the moment turned into poetry.

They always come back, but we don’t always answer.

I stopped writing in the obvious. I wrote how I saw it and if they don’t understand it, that’s fine.

I didn’t fear you. I feared us. I feared what could have been. I feared what could be. I feared the connection we had between each other. The toxicity because I could grasp the danger.

We grow apart because we grow in different stages and not all of our stages align.

If I had amnesia, I know I would fall in love with you all over again.

The fact that neither of us made sense was the beauty of it.

I think we might’ve met in a past life. You know, one of those you pass and think, wow you’re kind of beautiful. Just one of those.

I romanticized him until he was the perfect being. A soul so beautiful, but so immensely evil too.

To fall in love with pain is to fall in love with art.

You didn’t understand the poem, but that was because it wasn’t for you. It was for me to understand the pain you put me through.

Time has taught me not to lose hope, yet not to trust too much in hope either.

I was the solitary plovera pencil for a wing-boneFrom the secret notesI must tiltupon the pressureexecute and adjust In us sea-air rhythm"We live by the urgent waveof the verse

Boyhood, like measles, is one of those complaints which a man should catch young and have done with, for when it comes in middle life it is apt to be serious.

Maybe we all want to burn off across the horizon, into space, perhaps, to take off into some unknown territory and meet ourselves out there.

Repressively, Lymond himself answered. “I dislike being discussed as if I were a disease. Nobody ‘got’ me,” he said.

God can judge me, I don't need a jury. Nothing standing in my way, like nothing's my security.

I was literally the black sheep of the family, and there were definitely moments of discomfort while my grandmother was working through her racism.

Playing a three-hour Rush show is like running a marathon while solving equations.

I never want to stop painting. I'm 94 now. What's my secret? I just keep thinking about the painting I'm going to do tomorrow.

Think nothing done while aught remains to do.