Strangers are endearing because you don’t know them yet.

Sound unbound by nature becomes bounded by art.

When all is lost, there is still a memory.

Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?

Too often, feelings arrive too soon, waiting for thoughts that often come too late.

How many unuttered words died in the heads of those for whom a word was too expensive.

To dream on occasion is not dreaming, To love on occasion is not love.