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

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

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

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.

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

Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.

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