Who knows, maybe this whole planet is an asylum, a penal realm. A place for hard cases.

This is what you must be like. Grow wherever life puts you down.

Magic becomes art when it has nothing to hide.

What you see is what you make. What you see in a people is what you eventually create in them.

I'm conscious of a series of circles working its way through my life. And at this particular moment I have come round to the beginning of my writing cycle. It begins with poetry. There's hardly a day that goes past on which I don't write poetry.

I am not fighting for success, just to get more beauty out of myself and share it with more people.

There is a kind of expressed love which is easy to subvert. When a figure is loved for their deeds, their conquests, their heroism, their goodness, their love of the people, these are easy enough to destroy... But there is a kind of love which is felt for apparently no reason... A love, inspired, it seems, by the gods, which it is impossible to fight, distort, destroy, or weaken. In fact, the attempts to destroy such loves only strengthen them. And to do nothing allows them to continue to grow at their natural pace, inexoribly, till this love becomes a wide and silent adoration.