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

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.

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?

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

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 have died and rebirth a million times inside this body, and I have met a million people because of it.

Take refuge in your own arms. Collapse into the protection of your own body. It’s the safest home you will ever know.

The degree of notoriety I have is fine and easy. There’s nothing hysterical about it.

We break the rules, but it’s mostly because we don’t know what the rules are. It’s easy for us to go to certain places, so I’m not surprised that a lot of people were amused by my songwriting style.

However, nothing improves by accident, it requires conscious attention. When you are being bombarded by negatives, improvement, growth and success are easy to forget.

When I wrote I took on the role of the despondent and difficult to understand person. Whereas in life, I was easy to understand, to the point of being simple-minded maybe.

Letters should be easy and natural.

Streetlife serenader never sang on stages, needs no orchestration, melody comes easy, need no vast arrangement to do their harmonizing.

I’m not easy to live with. My wife is a saint.

TV makes it so easy to postpone living for another half hour.