“When we share art we extend a hand. We hold a mirror. We adjust our focus. We hold each other. We weave a collaborative story. Together.”

Holding on to something that has lost its magic, lost its mutual respect, hurts more. Elsa understood the assignment.

I’m exactly the same person. Well, except I’m not allowing dishonesty, selfishness, or negative energy to be a part of my life. And I’m noticing that I am truly happy.

Gazing at you across the table. How is it possible that everything has changed but love has grown stronger? True partnership is filling in each others blanks.

It takes time. We will get there.

New clothes won’t fill the void. Money won’t make you happy. Attention won’t heal past wounds. Things won’t finally make you feel better. If it’s broken its broken. These are distractions from the real work.

We can learn so much if we take the time to listen.

Every time I answer- I have to work harder to remember that I am happier with a wall between us. But knowing this – I still pick up.

Everything changed when I stopped putting myself last.

When you reach a point where you say I really don’t miss it. You have healed.

Of all the times I’ve said goodbye- It has been the hardest to let go knowing they aren’t gone. You just don’t know them anymore.

Sometimes forgiveness is off the table. When the hurt is real you can’t forget. But you can walk away. That’s healthy too.

When in doubt dance it out.

Every morning when I open my eyes, I feel possibility.

Here I am. I am here. Making this new day all it can be. Rejoicing in the sunrise thankful for the sunset. And hopeful that it will all happen again tomorrow.

I’ve said goodbye to so much. Now there is space. And for the first time I see how necessary it all was.

When the air begins to turn colder, a warmth grows in my core that says – it’s time to start new.

A purely materialistic art would be like a tree which is expected to bear fruit without flowering and to sacrifice grace and beauty for mere utility.

The oration of poetry, I consider to be its own art form and tradition.

Poetry is – it’s an art form, but, to me, it’s also a weapon, it’s also an instrument. It’s the ability to make ideas that have been known, felt and said. And that’s a real, I think, type of duty for the poet.

I definitely think that fashion is a form of art and love that people can express themselves through what they wear.

Even though Prince wasn’t rapping and it was a whole different era, it shows how artists expressed themselves without saying too much, and that was the real beauty of the art.

The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness.

Wisdom is nothing but a preparation of the soul, a capacity, a secret art of thinking, feeling and breathing thoughts of unity at every moment of life.

There is an art of seeing things as they are: without naming, without being caught in a network of words, without thinking interfering with perception.