Nothing that truly matters Can ever evaporate, Be excised, Burnt out of your soul.

Be content to love, to dazzle in the light, If only for moments… And then be gone, With gladness in your heart, Before the creeping shadows Claim too much your sadness at leaving.

Ours was such a delicious risk. My being abruptly and altogether Ecstatic and be-stilled.

On the canvas of life, Every sweep of the brush matters, Counts for something.

Sense how Even the smooth stones ache With stories of their own In the shuddering light of day.

The searing light of morning Asks unwelcome questions, Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.

Be brave enough to never yearn For that you cannot hold close In your heart forever. Tread lightly, cherish compassion And live in the moment without fear.

Ultimately not one amongst us Will ever be denied that, The glimmer of a chance to shine.

I am sad, like the hot dust on the streets And the music of fresh fallen leaves Caught in a sliding summer breeze.

Sublime moments refracted, Even if only for seconds, Caught forever in your soul.

Everyday can be extraordinary And ripe, Like a flower burst, If the will is there.

Only the frantic of fear can harm you. Your calm and centered self knows exactly what to do.

Trying to make the presidency work these days is like trying to sew buttons on a custard pie.

The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.

I seek a form of language which will express my ideas for our time.

The greatest form of maturity is at harvest time. This is when we must learn how to reap without complaint if the amounts are small and how to reap without apology if the amounts are big.

Tell me my copy is missing the last twenty pages or something. Hazel Grace, tell me I have not reached the end of this book. OH MY GOD DO THEY GET MARRIED OR NOT OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS?!

Vision sees what could be.

Something will be gathered from the tablets of the most faultless day for regrets.

I am the first to be surprised and often terrified by the images that I see appear on my canvas.

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.