Words are the weights which hold our history in place.

You know how a river goes on and on? That's my love for you.

Have you ever watched a leaf leave a tree? It falls upward first, and then it drifts toward the ground, just as I find myself drifting towards you.

We grow too old to lose old friends.

I believe friends enclose us, like a pair of parentheses. Each one knows us differently, each sustains us in a different way.

Imagine music gushing down the hollow places in your bones, and making you liquid, and giving you speed. Imagine music turning your body into a song.

Step out from behind the words. When you're a writer you can imagine that the words speak for you and are you, but they're not. You are this living breathing bad hair day kind of person.