in the corner of the painting of successthe signature is blurred

I place solitude in a frame on my desk and call it, the one I love.

We must live with our hearts in our hands - like Mary.We must hold the blood-red heart and no be disappointedwhen others look away.

As I go under, I wonder if there’s a reason for art?

Yes, it hurts to fall— ache, tenderness—but each scar is a sign your system is working.

She pours sugar on her life and drinks the artist’s marrow in the bone of her glass and she lives.

Like the kite that caught up to the sky, painted with clouds, I lost track of it, but it was connected by string, something I was holding, something I could always bring back.

Sometimes darknessis the beauty I am made of—

To suffer together is to suffer with beauty,

Maybe I’m still the mermaid. Maybe the ocean is your hand.

For everyone who never smiled in school photos, for all who’ve wandered city streetsnot knowing the where they were or feeling alone, I’ve packed kindness.

To be kind to everyone is a divine beauty.

The sooner we learn feelings are fickle, the better off we are.

Primitive does not mean stupid.

Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.

[America] will stand steadfast with Israel in pursuit of security and a lasting peace.

As long as we can tell stories about our ability to survive, the more we will hope, not self-destruct.

Room service? Send up a larger room.

Say, heavenly pow'rs, where shall we find such love? Which of ye will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save.

If we are ever to become what we might have been, we must cease being who we've become.