“Your separation from God is the hardest work you will ever do.”

Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.

I wish I could show you the astonishing light of your own being.

Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

Grieve not; though the journey of life be bitter, and the end unseen, there is no road which does not lead to an end.

How Do I Listen to others? As if everyone were my Master Speaking to me His Cherished Last Words.

I caught the happy virus last night When I was out singing beneath the stars. It is remarkably contagious – So kiss me.

The heart is a thousand stringed instrument that can only be tuned with love.

The Truth has shared so much of Itself with me That I can no longer call myself A man, a woman, an angel, Or even pure Soul.

All these words are just a front. What I would really like to do is chain you to my body, then sing for days & days & days.

Happiness is right in front of you.

Every desire of your body is holy; Every desire of your body is Holy.

Carry your heart through this world like a life-giving sun

The tide of my love Has risen so high let me flood over You.

Now is the time to know that all that you do is sacred Now is the time for you to deeply compute the impossibility that there is anything but grace.

Fear is the cheapest room in the house.

Your life within God’s arms, Your dance within God’s arms, Is already Perfect!

Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.

All good people agree, And all good people say, All nice people, like Us, are We And every one else is They: But if you cross over the sea, Instead of over the way, You may end by (think of it!) looking on We As only a sort of They!

I could meet dreadful people and end up seeing the world through their eyes, seeing their frailties, their needs.

Now’s the day and now’s the hour.

Some books are lies frae end to end.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

Perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.

In the end the salt calls the ocean home; and I guess this is why drowning has always been a part of loving you.