Around mile 20 I was feeling so good, I wanted to kiss everyone.
I do think that there's art that is tortured, but I prefer art that has the joy in it.
Every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied.
I'm singing for the love of it/Have mercy on the man who sings to be adored.
The real desk isn't one with four legs and a filing cabinet. It's the space of time that you stake out every day and the will with which you defend it.
Fear only has as much power as we give it space.