“Write. Write until it stops hurting.”

People living deeply have no fear of death.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

Don’t let one cloud obliterate the whole sky.

Create a world, your world. Alone. Stand alone. And then love will come to you, then it comes to you.

No one should be forced to carry the unfulfilled self of another.

It is in the movements of emotional crisis that human beings reveal themselves most accurately.

The secret of life was Breath. That was what I always wanted my words to do, to Breathe.

Whenever you do something that is not aligned with the yearning or your soul – you create suffering.

We are never trapped unless we choose to be.

When you possess light within, you see it externally.

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.

I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

If I love you it means we share the same fantasies, the same madnesses.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.