If you were the sky, I would unfurl myself in you, as a rainbow of colors yet unseen. I would become oceans of stars in your night.

Poetry isn't an activity, it's a way life is lived.

Pure at heart: to be like a flower that blooms as gloriously, brilliantly in a secluded wild wood, not seen and praised.

Remembrance of our kiss brings not your lips nor mine to mind. The flesh can only envy consumption so divine.

Patience is being friends with Time.

Apart from Love, which is not a human emotion, of all the rest my last words would best read: It's all for the experience.

Money is only a human invention. I get paid for my work, it's a system of trade, but it's not my purpose and reason for living.