Often, we melt into our ecstasies as though they were jams, as though we were sinking into syrupy bowls of gooseberries, of raspberries, of bilberries.

I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.

We are talking. It's a shame. What is said is murdered. Our words that will not grow any bigger or any lovelier will wilt inside our bones. Words wither feelings.

There's no sustenance in the past.

I was and I always shall be hampered by what I think other people will say.

To find relief in what has been, we must make ourselves eternal.

To write is to inform against others.

I give myself to adjectives body and soul, I die with pleasure for them.

Calamity shaped a life when, long ago, chance was so cruel.

Maybe someday, I'd find someone who'd prove he really loved me. Someone who'd hold me rather than let me fall. Someone who'd never lie to me.

God can answer every need.

Consciousness is not mind; it is the ground of all being, the ground of both matter and mind. Matter and mind are both possibilities of consciousness.

I'm really interested in starting to write my own songs. I never really did, but hopefully I will because I'm so interested in writing my own songs.

There is no balance, all or nothing.

You have come to the shore. There are no instructions.

There is a fine line between assertiveness and being relaxed.

Those that say it is the taking part and not the winning that is important are, for me, wrong. It is the other way round.

To care only about your pain and suffering, and disregard the emotional toll of others is hypocritically sub-human.