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.

Watch the indolent butterfly playing on the tall flower in the yard and think about the sun going down. It always does you know.

Everybody has the answers or they'll make them up for you. Just once I'd like to hear a brand-new question.

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.

The journey back is always longer than the forward run.

To understand others you should get behind their eyes and walk down their spines.

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