What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller possession of the reality of your life.

The sea cries with its meaningless voice, Treating alike its dead and its living

I shall also take you forth and carve our names together in a yew tree, haloed with stars.

Prose, narratives, etcetera, can carry healing. Poetry does it more intensely.

The real mystery is this strange need. Why can't we just hide it and shut up? Why do we have to blab? Why do human beings need to confess?

You are who you choose to be.

where are the gods the gods hate us the gods have run away the gods have hidden in holes the gods are dead of the plague they rot and stink too there never were any gods there’s only death

The dreamer in her Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it. That moment the dreamer in me Fell in love with her and I knew it

The deeps are cold: In that darkness camaraderie does not hold: Nothing touches but, clutching, devours.

The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust.

Show him every dawn & read to him endlessly.

For no one, in our long decline, So dusty, spiteful and divided, Had quite such pleasant friends as mine, Or loved them half as much as I did.

Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?

When you're fighting for social justice, one of my biggest pet peeves is speaking out of ignorance.

I grew up playing 'Mortal Kombat' as a kid. I was always a fan of the video game. Saw the movies as a kid as well.

Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles.

Ursula craved solitude but she hated loneliness, a conundrum that she couldn’t even begin to solve.

On the other hand, I was very much interested in the way people behaved, the human dance, how they seemed to move around each other. I wanted to play around with that.

My old man had a philosophy: peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy.

Listen to presences inside poems.

Poetry, Painting & Music, the three Powers in man of conversing with Paradise, which the flood did not sweep away.