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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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