“Art is the sound of a human dying to be an immortal artist.”

Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.

When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.

Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.

You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.

I hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.

Death is the mercy of life on us.

Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.

Your eyes looking into mine, this is how two eclipses collide.

Darling, do not teach your stars to shine. Teach them how to embrace the darkness.

He’s shy, he talks to her only. She’s bold, she listens to him only.

She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.

She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.

I wanted peace, they gave me silence.

Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.

I hope this pain never eases and these wounds never heal. That’s how you keep lingering in scars, underneath my skin.

The goal of life is rapture. Art is the way we experience it.

Lying is the only art form that the public sanctions and instinctively prefers to reality.

I think the most important is when I was young, I learnt martial arts; that is my special key.

But if you’re talking about fine art work, then I think you have to ask yourself some pretty deep questions about why it is you want to take pictures and what it is you want to say.

Through the sacred art of pausing, we develop the capacity to stop hiding, to stop running away from our experience. We begin to trust in our natural intelligence, in our naturally wise heart, in our capacity to open to whatever arises.

The professional respects his craft. He does not consider himself superior to it. He recognizes the contributions of those who have gone before him. He apprentices himself to them.

All art is unstable. Its meaning is not necessarily that implied by the author. There is no authoritative voice. There are only multiple readings.

Insanity is a legal term. Crazy is an art form.