I have never known a cat that couldn't quiet me down just by walking slowly past my chair.

People ask me why I connected. It was presumptuous of me to say, but I'm Everyman. The difference is I put my thoughts into words.

We will all wake up semi-angels, If we wake at all.

Do not ask the definition of a friend. He/She is that one without whose company death and dying set in earlier and living is made more pleasurable.

There is no other way to find ourselves but in each others faces.

I cannot speculate on what our cluttered mind will save- sleepy Sundays, or a nosebleed after love. I know only the dying heart needs the nourishment of memory to live beyond too many winters.

I've come to terms with it, it knows I know.