this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making, sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake, this blessing love gives again into our arms.

It is necessary to reteach a thing its loveliness, to put a hand on its brow of the flower and retell it in words and in touch it is lovely until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.

Go so deep into yourself, you speak for everyone.

I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.

Never mind. The self is the least of it. Let our scars fall in love.

To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying, with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment

The first step in the journey is to lose your way.

Turn on the dream you lived through the unwavering gaze. It is as you thought: the living burn. In the floating days may you discover grace.

I have always intended to live forever; but not until now, to live now.

Sometimes it is necessary To reteach a thing its loveliness

Let our scars fall in love.

It's your mind you have to train, like your mom said that one time, you have to separate yourself from all the crap, get down to the core, focus.

Time passes, but memories linger.

When I'm flying, I really like to listen to piano music. Something impressionistic, loud and beautiful. Flying can be such a claustrophobic experience, it's nice to open that up a bit with music.

I hope I'm better today than I was yesterday. I don't believe in glory days or anything like that, so I think the best is tomorrow or later this afternoon!

A popular saying in Alderson went as follows: 'They work us like a horse, feed us like a bird, treat us like a child, dress us like a man - and then expect us to act like a lady.

I think it's very important to have a feedback loop, where you're constantly thinking about what you've done and how you could be doing it better.

You are foolish, but without fools there would be no wisdom.

I'll catch you angel, i'll always catch you.

The literature of the emperor penguin is as forbidding, as inaccessible, as the frozen heart of Antarctica itself. Its beauties may be unearthly, but they are not for us.

I'm infamous, a joke. It doesn't make me feel good, because I'm a genuine person, but I don't let it get to me, because I am who I am.