John J. Geddes Quotes

I'm a modern mountebank - I believe in Physiognomy - after all, we are in control of our face - it's the map of where we've been.

Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.

We fear monsters because we fear the dark parts of ourselves.

Poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths.

You can be angry and silent, but it's no use - there's no distance in the spirit - besides, my words touch you more softly than my hands.

The religion of the heart is as intimate as a wish breathed to the night sky.

When we perfect 3-D copiers and they reproduce tissue, we'll have a million Marilyns walking around with no souls.

That icy glass reduces your beauty - dims your fire - let me be your mirror...

Here's what I've learned - people will hurt you, but you don't have to respond: Not every mean comment or cruel act deserves to be noticed.

I have found, beauty is the illumination of the mind.

It must be hard when you are a beautiful woman and no one will look at your soul.

December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.

Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

If you want your own distinctive voice, you first have to become someone.

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.

I make no apology about stirring the depths - every human longs to swim under water and see what lurks beneath

The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.

I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.

You think so logically... like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically... like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth.

A sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing.

Some people won't even own a dog for fear it will die - you can't bubble-wrap your heart.

And not out of fear or loneliness, but only to find myself again... for we have come too far my Life, to turn back now.

I'm not afraid of the opinions of others - but of being needed and coming up short.

I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists

I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind.

Authority is the unmistakeable tone in the voice of a true writer.

The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.

When I think of you it's with tears, because no one else has such delicate hands that can reach into my soul and calm my fears.

I see myself at crossroads in my life, mapless, lacking bits of knowledge - then, the Moon breaks through, lights up the path before me.

Each heart is made of a different stone - no two feel alike nor break the same way.

I'm shy in person - so afraid to confess my love - I need a go-between - our mutual friend, the Moon.

Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.

Ambition or contentment? This simple question led me back to a more balanced view of life and put me in touch with the Me I used to know.