Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly and wants to rip to shreds all your erroneous notions of the truth that make you fight within yourself, dear one, and with others, causing the world to weep on too many fine days... The Beloved sometimes wants to do us a great favor: Hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.

Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.

What we speak becomes the house we live in.

Come in, my dearFrom that harsh worldThat has rained elements of stoneUpon your tender face.Every soulShould receive a toast from usFor bravery!

God disguised as myriad things, and playing a game of tag has kissed you and said, "You're it. I mean you're really it. Now it does not matter what you believe or feel. For something wonderful, something major-league wonderful, is someday going to happen."

The great religions are the ships, Poets the life boats. Every sane person I know has jumped overboard.

Greatness is always built on this foundation: the ability to appear, speak and act, as the most common man.