“Glass can shatter, yet still be created into nothing short of art. And so can you.”

I am learning to forgive all those who are not sorry.

Is there another human out there made from the same lightening as me that I have crashed into yet?

I stepped into love with grace. I stepped out of love with grace. The beginning was beautiful. The ending was beautiful.

The irony of crashing into me is I will show you what safety looks like.

The truth is your skin was my skin and shedding you is not an easy process.

Look how wildflowers bloom from your skin. So why hold back those tears when your soil needs them?

My head screamed. I want to make them burn the way they did to me. My heart cried that’s not who you are.

Don’t strive to become more. Strive to become whole.

You were so gentle with my messy burdens, my tender wounds and the cracks in my broken soul that I became gentle with them, too.

I am mystic bones and a curious heart. Pain and joy and stardust skin. A sacred soul container. Time and space and matter and illusion. Expansion and contraction. A breathing universe.

I can feel hope beginning to sprout from all parts of me that were once punctured.

Choose to soften. Again and again and again. Despite, despite, despite.

Those who are unkind to themselves will not appreciate your kindness. Do it anyway.

I know our bodies were engagement in the act of sex. But did you hear how loudly our souls were making music?

It is a paradox, you see the act of giving is what fills you.

It’s time for that spark that twinkles inside your stomach to become a roaring forest fire.

I am a typed director. If I made Cinderella, the audience would immediately be looking for a body in the coach.

Real art has the capacity to make us nervous.

Art is a form of consciousness.

Photography is an elegiac art, a twilight art. Most subjects photographed are, just by virtue of being photographed, touched with pathos.

A good film is when the price of the dinner, the theatre admission and the babysitter were worth it.

Time eventually positions most photographs, even the most amateurish, at the level of art.

Ideas come from everything.

In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art.