“Sometimes getting lost is just the right direction.”

I see the world in shades of you.

It takes effort to make it to forever.

There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

With each daydream she weaved her pastel heart into the sky.

Spring is poetry poured into nature.

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.

She loves her lonely moments the silence away from the crowds, when its just her daydreaming.

Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.

Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.

Lets breath magic into each other.

In a world of lost souls how could I ever find a home?

Summer left me like an almost lover.

If I make him my home, will I lose the home inside myself?

Every drop of her gin held a lost world of night sky dances.

I feel blurry as a reflection in water.

When I started, I was 23 years old directing my own music videos; I’m co-producing on my album; I’m hands-on with everything. I’m more than just a pretty boy: I’m an artist. I’m not saying I’m a hip-hop music artist, I’m an artiste.

I did not direct my life. I didn’t design it. I never made decisions. Things always came up and made them for me. That’s what life is.

If I weren’t earning $3 million a year to dunk a basketball, most people on the street would run in the other direction if they saw me coming.

I believe in the religion of Love, whatever direction its caravans may take, for Love is my religion and my faith.

I think there are multiple ways to have your voice heard. In some cases, it’s through protest and it’s through going on the nightly news and talking about or denouncing every issue on which you disagree with. Other times it is quietly and directly and candidly.

I trust that everything is always flowing effortlessly and efficiently towards the right direction.

Guidance is not attained except with knowledge and correct direction is not attained except with patience.

When everybody owns something, nobody owns it, and nobody has a direct interest in maintaining or improving its condition. That is why buildings in the Soviet Union – like public housing in the United States – look decrepit within a year or two of their construction.