To a friend, achievement is good news, to an enemy, it's bragging.

She listened to him all night and he found her fascinating.

Events, time, forms, all propel the inner plot within each of us.

How do we define consciousness, or what has been called the human soul or the spirit, if it can't be quantified as matter or a particle?.. It can be quantified or observed just by a process of elimination.

When we can build something like the Hubble telescope and fathom images of this vast cosmos of which we are a part, it really gives pause to wonder what and who we are within a larger framework than linear adventures at the shopping mall and taxes.

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

Is it a form of social play that underneath the words people say, there is a different conversation going on?