The world is like a courtroom, with God as our judge. We are called upon to fulfill our covenant with God, who asked, "Am I not your Lord?" To which we answered, "Yea." And since here on earth we are on trial, our every word and action form the witness to and the evidence of that agreement.

Bitter your acts, bitter am I, Kindness your deeds, kindness am I, Pleasant and gentle, so you are, Fine honeyed lips and sweet talker.

Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it.

Journeys bring power and love back into you. If you can't go somewhere, move in the passageways of the self. They are like shafts of light, always changing, and you change when you explore them.

This is how it always is when I finish a poem. A great silence overcomes me and I wonder why I ever thought to use language.

For hundreds of thousands of years I have been dust-grains floating and flying in the will of the air, often forgetting ever being in that state, but in sleep I migrate back.

When something goes wrong, accuse yourself first. Even the wisdom of Plato or Solomon can wobble and go blind