Eventually

when someone lights a fire under your pen, stop and take notice. watch how the words form themselves upon a tongue that wants to speak of nothing else except him, him, him. thoughts flow like a stream. it is as if they move effortlessly, as if they have always known how to slow dance.

Whoever wants music instead of noise, joy instead of pleasure, soul instead of gold, creative work instead of business, passion instead of foolery, finds no home in this trivial world of ours.

It’s not ‘natural’ to speak well, eloquently, in an interesting articulate way. People living in groups, families, communes say little–have few verbal means. Eloquence–thinking in words–is a byproduct of solitude, deracination, a heightened painful individuality.

You have me. Until every last star in the galaxy dies. You have me.

There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.

there’s a universe swirling inside of you. you have to learn to be your own earth, wind, fire and water. you are a natural phenomenon - not a natural disaster.