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

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

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

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

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.

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

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