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.

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

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

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

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.

Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.