With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.

Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.

That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.

How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.

Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.

The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

You have to feel the mix and you have to feel the work and the sweet somehow which somebody is investing in that moment in the way that you can really feel the passion.

For what is magic, but passion freed from reason?

I can see clearly my visions.

but there was nothing I could do to dim the supernovae exploding inside my brain, an endless chain of intra cranial firecrackers

I would describe my music and my sound as… Avril Lavigne!

Choose wise and Godly people to advise you.

This garden is no metaphor - more a task that swallows you into itself, earth using, as always, everything it can.

Innocence has a single voice that can only say over and over again, "I didn't do it." Guilt has a thousand voices, all of them lies.

My mother made us eat all sorts of vitamins and supplements, until one day I nearly choked on part of The Sunday Times.

Words and deeds are far from being one. Much that is talked about is left undone.