Tickle my heart with your pen. Write me for all to read. Bind our love inside a book. Make me, your poetry.

Bruised, beaten, shaken, weakened, tossed, thrown, lost, alone, heard, helped, healed, hope... it still works.

If you say something as if it were, that isn't, is it considered a lie, or speaking it into existence?

Your heart beats between the palm of my hand.Its need to beOne with meDripsBetween my fingertipsAs I squeeze perfect drops of love into small receptacles to be preserved...For later. ☕️

Tickle my heart with your pen. Write me for all to read. Bind our love inside a book. Make me your poetry.

I don't want what love is. I want what love is supposed to be.

Can still windmills, still produce wind? Can a heart still love, when a heart no longer is?

Tonight, can we just pretend that you want me too?

Tonight, can we just pretend you want me too?

As a man thinketh so is he? The faith of a mustard seed? I planted these words in my thoughts, and still, mind wound up lost, between my dreams and reality.

Your heart beats against the palm of my hand.Its need to beOne with meDripsBetween my fingertipsAs I squeeze perfect drops of love into small receptacles to be preserved...For later. ☕️

I opened my mouth, but the same words came to me again and again.I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.

As far as thinking about death and murder and various ways of killing people and how people die... I probably have the most twisted mind in Slayer.

Along the road of life are many pleasure resorts, but think not that by tarrying in them you will take more days to the journey. The day of your arrival is already recorded.

With you, what you see is what you get. And I see cheap.

The best place to succeed is where you are with what you've got.

If you're stuck at piano and you're not a lead guitarist or a lead vocalist, you're kind of at a nine-foot plank then and you should do something about it.

Tragedy speaks not of secular dilemmas which may be resolved by rational innovation, but of the unalterable bias toward inhumanity and destruction in the drift of the world.

You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler.

We think we learn from teachers, and we sometimes do. But the teachers are not always to be found in school or in great laboratories. Sometimes what we learn depends upon our own powers of insight.

I think that age is a number. Right now I feel good and I'm playing well, so I think that 36 is good.