I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving.

There is nothing more precious than laughter

pain, pleasure and death are no more than a process for existence. The revolutionary struggle in this process is a doorway open to intelligence

I paint flowers to prevent them from dying

I love you more than my own skin and even though you don’t love me the same way, you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and i’m satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you.

I must fight with all my strength so that the little positive things that my health allows me to do might be pointed toward helping the revolution. The only real reason for living.

My blood is a miracle that, from my veins, crosses the air in my heart into yours.