Jas of Athens

We are alive. And now the work is to be gentler with ourselves and with the world.

Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.

Where words fail, music speaks.

Halloween approached like a tiger in the night, with a soft rumble of warning…

And we stand in front of the mirror every morning, desperate to convince ourselves that the world is not falling apart.

There is a gentle thought that often springs to life in me, because it speaks of you.

The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.

This is your autumn, opening, spreading the strong scent of exile and empty letters.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

I take a picture, but it's not about who is in the picture or the background of it. It's about the memories and meanings it holds.

The world before us is a postcard, and I imagine the story we are writing on it.

The face is a picture of the mind with the eyes as its interpreter.

Life is full of stories. Or maybe life is only stories.

But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword.

Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.

To be effortlessly yourself is a blessing, an ambrosia. It is like a few tiny little puffs of opium which lift you ever so slightly off the hard surface of the world.