Some can't handle the fiery poet, how she rips into souls burning words into prose.

Forbidden things - my God, I'm drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

Her eyes, full of ancient, sacred wisdom. Her bones, deposits of inherited bravery. She is a proud descendant of strong, courageous women who went to the stakes fighting for their truths.

Be with someone who willingly runs in the storm with you, not someone who cowers away because of turbulent winds.

She’s into authentic hearts and mind shattering conversations. Good music and quirky art. Weirdness and eccentric people. Love, kindness and genuine souls. She’s into all this and so much more.

She's a dark-eyed, red flame, bohemian hurricane.

I swear that girl was born with a pen in her hand, the moon in her hair and stars in her soul.

You have dirty hands and dark wild eyes, but by far you are the purest heart I have ever known.

Your soul is so bohemian, free and gypsy wild. Come swim with me in the calming sea, let's be mermaids for awhile.

Once our souls collided and caught fire, there was no turning back. Love is a collision of two stars -- it's as simple and as complicated as that.

You think you know me, I've barely peeled back one layer.

I want you. I need you. For as many hours as possible, I don't want to think about anything but you.

The sunlight that has brought life and healing to you has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is yours, not mine.

If you think you can, or if u think you can't.. Either way ur correct... It's the thinking that makes it so.

If you don't speak out when it matters, when would it matter to speak out?

The ones that you're calling wild are going to be the leaders in a little while.

Even Woodstock turned out to be a disaster. Everybody was stuck in the mud and people got sick.

By the end of the week, if I'm still alive, I get to write whatever I want about it all.

Fashion is the art of making the unimportant indispensable.

In some strange way, any new fact or insight that I may have found has not seemed to me as a "discovery" of mine, but rather something that had always been there and that I had chanced to pick up.

Clay Cook is a first class musician. Tender tormented genius here in 'North Star'. I will kill him if he leaves my band and he knows it. Great record.