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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.