Mud and water and the stumps of trees. In every direction that was all there was. Bodies fell, but the trees died standing up.

I do think that there's art that is tortured, but I prefer art that has the joy in it.

I'm looking over rooftops, and I'm hoping it ain't true, that the same God looks out for them, looks out for me and you.

I'm singing for the love of it/Have mercy on the man who sings to be adored.

Its been a long time coming but now the snow is gone

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.

Mud and water and the stumps of trees. In every direction that was all there was. Bodies fell, but the trees died standing up.