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

A sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing.

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

We fear monsters because we fear the dark parts of ourselves.

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

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.

Authority is the unmistakeable tone in the voice of a true writer.