“Well, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.”

May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.

I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.

May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.

Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself.

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.

I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.

May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.

I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.

Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.

Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.

Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.

America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn’t standing still.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.