Art gives its vision to beauty not always recognized. And it surrenders freely -- whatever power it possesses to every sincere soul that seeks it. But above all else--it presents us with the gift of ourselves.

Passion presented with a greater challenge achieves a greater goal.

If I say your voice is an amber waterfall in which I yearn to burn each day, if you eat my mouth like a mystical rose with powers of healing and damnation, If I confess that your body is the only civilization I long to experience… would it mean that we are close to knowing something about love?

Beauty from another world gave birth to your voice-- sent to rescue scorned hearts from traumatized nights.

Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.

As painful as life can be at times for people all over the world there is some component of existence, or nonexistence perhaps, operating to implement a balance and give us an opportunity to turn the horrors we've forced upon each other into something more conducive to sustaining at least minimal degrees of sanity and love.

If life is a birthday cake let my face be smeared with its icing of cognac and kindness.