The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.

The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else.

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

I am someone who proudly and humbly affirms that love is the mystery-of-mysteries, and that nothing measurable matters 'a very good God damn'; that 'an artist, a man, a failure' is no mere whenfully accreting mechanism, but a givingly eternal complexity-neither some soulless and heartless ultrapredatory infra-animal nor any understandingly knowing and believing and thinking automaton, but a naturally and miraculously whole human being-a feelingly illimitable individual; whose only happiness is to transcend himself, whose every agony is to grow.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.

n OthI n g can s urPas s the m y SteR y of s tilLnes s