...we each harbor a shadow self with shadowy motives and murky desires...

...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...

...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...

...no good writing flows from a polluted well - you can write about monsters, but you can't be one...

...I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms...

...true love is an irrevocable act - you can only give your heart away once - after that, you give as much as you have left ...

...wherever there is society, there is authority and the temptation to disobedience because our individual wills refuse to submit...

...you think so logically...like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically...like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth...

...you fantasize about me reading my poems to you - it doesn't work that way - I write down everything later - living is not an after-thought...

...if you always move in certainty, your writing will be flat - creativity is a rugged terrain...

...is worship too strong a word? yes, I worship you - to worship is to give worth to something – isn’t that what love is all about?...

A busy life is often full of nonsense but empty of essence.

Happiness is.. rising in LOVE in spite of gravity

The books in the library were old, rotted, and there was no one left in the world to read them, but Kira made sure that none of them went into the fire. It seemed wrong.

Insight is the first condition of Art.

Nothing stands for content-free corporate bullshit quite like PowerPoint. And that's just scratching the surface.

Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to be distinguished in society by the soundness of their understanding, and the superiority of their faculties above the rest of mankind.

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.

It is almost an intellectual tradition to pay heed to the insane. In my case those that I most respect are the morons.

True faith will always show itself by its fruits . . . I suspect that, with rare exceptions, men die just as they have lived.

Jon: Our only thought is to entertain you! Garfield: Feed me.