Understand, it's never been easy to live, when we're trying to escape ourselves.

To suffer together is to suffer with beauty.

I place solitude in a frame on my desk and call it, the one I love.

Maybe if I could slip into Sylvia's mind, sort out the spices in her rack, alphabetize them and dust them off. Maybe then I'd understand how it's the little things that pull you under.

We must live with our hearts in our hands - like Mary.We must hold the blood-red heart and no be disappointedwhen others look away.

As I go under, I wonder if there’s a reason for art?

Yes, it hurts to fall— ache, tenderness—but each scar is a sign your system is working.

She pours sugar on her life and drinks the artist’s marrow in the bone of her glass and she lives.

in the corner of the painting of successthe signature is blurred

Like the kite that caught up to the sky, painted with clouds, I lost track of it, but it was connected by string, something I was holding, something I could always bring back.

Sometimes darknessis the beauty I am made of—

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

Remembered pain tightened his mouth into a grim line. The weeks he’d spent looking for her had left permanent scars on his heart.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books.

One has to be a lowbrow, a bit of a murderer, to be a politician, ready and willing to see people sacrificed, slaughtered, for the sake of an idea, whether a good one or a bad one.

Sitting around and waiting for your muse is not the best choice.

I like to do the camera work myself because I kind of feel it, you know, I don't articulate it, I feel it. It's the same with editing.

In all things rest is sweet; there is sur feit even in honey, even in Aphrodite s lovely flowers.

Boredom is the self being stuffed with itself.