To love--to fall--is not a question. To touch--to kiss--to speak--those are questions.

If you want to live within the definition of your own truth, you have to choose to go through the initially painful and ultimately comforting process of finding it.

Music is everywhere. It’s in the air between us, waiting to be sung.

Because sometimes you just have to dance like a madman in the Self-Help section of your local bookstore.

You existed. You existed now as a fractal. Definition: A fractal is generally a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be broken into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole. Maybe I was a fractal. Maybe the photographer was a fractal. Maybe we were all fractals.

I cannot think of a single word to describe what we feel. I think we all feel it, to varying degrees. Perhaps in some other language there is a word for 'the world is terribly wrong.' That feeling of stun and unbelief and abandonment and shock and horror and distress.

love is tied to truth. I think of them as unhappily conjoined twins.