suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.

one pierced moment whiter than the rest -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.

Private property began the instant somebody had a mind of his own.

Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.

And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]