And not out of fear or loneliness, but only to find myself again... for we have come too far my Life, to turn back now.
The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.
I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.
The religion of the heart is as intimate as a wish breathed to the night sky.
Authority is the unmistakeable tone in the voice of a true writer.
Some people won't even own a dog for fear it will die - you can't bubble-wrap your heart.