...winter crescent resting in the high pine bough - you fly through the woods like a lone snow bird...

...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?...

Very few people have ever experienced the feeling of being completely understood. When they experience it, it can become one of the richest feelings they have ever had.

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.

When the States already had nuclear weapons, and the Soviet Union was only building them, we got a significant amount of information through Soviet foreign intelligence channels.

I once dressed up, very badly timed as Steve Irwin's daughter. And I didn't realize he had passed because I hadn't been following the news. I love Bindi Irwin, just the timing was in poor taste.

There is no rule that says a footballer needs to be 'this high' and 'this wide.'

Reporters used to ask me the same inane questions year-in and year-out, city-to-city, and it would drive me crazy.

Most writers adore their editors, and I'm no exception.

People always have an opinion. Doesn't mean it's right, doesn't mean it's wrong, but we have to respect their opinion.

How many fools does it take to make up a public?

So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.