“They are simple creatures they see right through you and if by chance they miss you, they will make you believe you were never there.”

Though it may be the season I’m not quite in bloom but slowly unfolding to where I may accept the sun and someday bloom.

I remember so little that I can’t forget enough.

Take a souvenir you don’t have to keep, Just pretend you want to remember.

For in the wild I feel the safest where the thorns of the invisible hand can not prick me.

Many times over my eyes have devoured the layers of your skin but I’ve never seen you naked.

Living in a constant paradox, begging to be held and released by gravity, to be grounded and free. But my feet pressed against the earth yearn for the clouds above my fingertips adrift whispering I don’t want to be at the mercy of gravity.

The cloak of death has favorites when its strings are being controlled by the puppeteer of hatred.

Let your memories fall into place, you don’t have to carry all of them at once.

Why are we told to be afraid to hurt? Why do we avoid, run and hide? Cover up inside with shields of armor, Our shins, and elbows made of pads of plastic; We are not made of glass and tattered bits, It’s not weakness when our strength builds us to last.

There is no sunrise as beautiful as the one where you realize you are worth a million suns.

Where do I stand when neither side recognizes me as one of them.

For time does nothing for you if you do nothing with it.

I am suffocating in the vacancy of the overflowing space, can you feel me reaching out?

Can you taste the colors your ancestors weaved into, The armors of resilience they wore; Can you taste the colors of the unpaved path before you, waiting to be colored by you?

Have you ever heard silence? How do you hear the silence? You don’t, you feel it. And they stared at the silence between them.

How can I not love you from a distance when you breathe the same way I do, Have the same needs I do?  Search for the same purpose and meaning that I do? Why must there be me over here and you over there that do not live in the same world?

The main enemy of the open society, I believe, is no longer the communist but the capitalist threat.

But when you really believe-in yourself, in your dream-you just have to do everything you possibly can to take control and make your vision a reality. No great achievement happens by luck.

What is essential, therefore, is not that you no longer believe, but that God continues to believe in you.

I don’t have stylistic loyalty. That’s why people perceive me changing all the time. But there is a real continuity in my subject matter. As an artist of artifice, I do believe I have more integrity than any one of my contemporaries.

We, and all others who believe in freedom as deeply as we do, would rather die on our feet than live on our knees.

My one purpose in life is to help people find a personal relationship with God, which, I believe, comes through knowing Christ.

I believed less is what I needed, what I tried to achieve; I thought less is more, better, the minimalistic beauty of life.

I don’t believe in God, but I’m afraid of Him.