my love is a winter’s mistgently dissolvingthrough the windowat the nape of your neck.

the intensityin your eyesburns my penas i write.

For it is up to you and meto take solacein nostalgia's armsand our abilityto create the everlastingfrom fleeting moments.

love wounds me with soft pillows with tender lips and fingers

I breathe in...the fragranceof love, and moist sandthe onehis roses lefton both my handsI just keep on breathingevery momentas much as I canpreserving it, in my bodyfor the dayit can’t.

Tell me..how do you stand there?filling the doorway....of my life.

I want to read every book that’s writtenhear every song that was sungI want to gaze at every cloudand hold the zing of each fruit on my tongue.

I realizedJune had never beenjust a monthmusic...never just a trembleon my lipswarmth was nevermerely a blanket.

I breathe in...the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

kisses explode when... someone believes in me when my heart cries out a song of thanks to yours.

When I write...I am in the fond armsof a childhood friendupon whose colorful heart I can hang the charcoal drawingsof my woes.

They have money and position and Ann has none.It's amazing how often you can be right as long as you have those two things working in your favor.

Making money ethically is to be paid whilst solving someone else's problems.

The more tightly packed the group, the greater the need for strict social ranks and orders.

God does not 'love' us without liking us.

Go to the Martin Beck Theatre and watch Katherine Hepburn run the gamut of emotions from A to B.

Not until we have learned to be useful can we afford to do what we like.

All good work is done the way ants do things: Little by little.

Nothing is so contrary to military rules as to make the strength of your army known, either in the orders of the day, in proclamations, or in the newspapers.

Your life is a reflection of how you think

Everyday, all day I have to be productive. And when I ain't productive, I get concerned.