I love how summer just wraps it’s arms around you like a warm blanky.

Sing me a love song in a slow, southern drawl to the tune of sunny days...

Maybe Heaven will be a library and then I might get to finish my ‘to-read’ list.

Resting on the roots of this old oak I lean back against his knotted trunk, shine my granny smith on my sleeve And ponder the days…

The train blows through towndelivering reality, slapping my face and screaming, “You are alone”Rose colored memories drown, taking their last breath.

...and should I die in her care, I would leave smiling because, I will linger in the hills beside her...

It's summer and time for wandering...

How mighty you are as death comes upon you and your color fades. Yet from life and lush to bold array, screaming into the night.

I have yet to be completely submerged in reality, for drowning in the sky.

Philosophers' Syndrome: mistaking a failure of the imagination for an insight into necessity.

There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.

I don't believe in God and all that. But I am Jewish, and very proud to be so, very proud of the culture.

The whole world is an art gallery when you're mindful. There are beautiful things everywhere and they're free.

There's a rebel lying deep in my soul.

You're unique, amazing Like no one else You have the exclusive On being yourself.

Lyrics have got to be simple and catchy. A hook is more important than an overall concept or story.

Whoever will be cured of ignorance, let him confess it.

Our culture is so fixated on dying and going to heaven when the whole Scripture is about heaven coming to earth.

Of all the portions of life it is in the two twilights, childhood and age, that tears fall with the most frequency; like the dew at dawn and eve.