Everything is blood and vines. The mark of another day of revolving the body exact And the sky is ours our hope our blue our silence our throat of burning wildflowers.

The only thing I know about me is that it is you.

lips, red, ruby, like the blood, like the voice.

Music repairs us when it breaks the silence.

Wait for it to rain and then go out into the street.

She is his word his love she brings the blood back to his lips.

Hit me with spit on the wounds.

Finding yourself with your loves gives blood to existence, looking at one another seeing the universe.

The edge of the sea masks a clock that marks the waves.

Loving you is kissing the night, exposing the scars, words in flames, for every drop and for every life.

free fall to your quite smile to capture you and you propel me to death, all that we write destroys then heals

One trick I swear by: I pour a little neroli or lavender oil onto a hot towel and use it to wipe off my makeup. It opens up my pores, and then my face cream sinks in better.

I still think about the writers I loved when I was a kid.

I don't tell anybody else what to wear. I would never dream of it.

I have a ranch in Montana, but it's not a real working ranch. I've always liked the outdoors. I come from Texas. My grandfather was a farmer; that's as close as I come.

I'll come back as soon as I can with as much as I can. In the meantime, you've got to hold!

A chimp would never plan to pull another's nails out.

If you can design the physical space, the social space, and the information space together to enhance collaborative learning, then that whole milieu turns into a learning technology.

You can say the dirty words now, but there is no content - political satire is limited to small podiums and little soap boxes.

Everyone must be equal before the law, abide by it, pay their taxes and bear the punishment should they break the law.

Men fall into a routine when they are tired and slack: it has all the appearance of activity with few of its burdens.