“If you are a painter my love, then I will be your writer.”

Tease me over & again, moon over my night a meteor-like allure strike through my heart.

Stay with me in this inferno and together we’ll watch the world burn.

If this should end in fire come, fill this desire.

It is not the world I fear but what becomes of me; when you disappear so understand it is you I cannot sacrifice with you in my life-I’ll suffice.

Tell me about the city you grew up in, how you like to take your tea let me see the world through your eyes; be the muse to my literacy.

In the cold you left me, that is how my love for you came to be.

You shall have all that is in this garden.

I loved you as Icarus loved the sun, too close, too much.

I want a love that meets me half way. A love filled with chivalry as if it were written in old days.

Who am I to write about love when I don’t know the very definition of it, It seems, love itself does not favor me.

In each passing day, I hope I love you less but somehow this love stays and my heart is yours nonetheless.

If I can have what I want then I’d have the stars the moon, the skies and a love where it shines through your eyes.

This spring along with flowers, I hope you bloom as my love has, one season too soon.

For the rest of my life I will stay by his side. A union this world could never divide.

In my heart where I’ve built a wall, you grew loving vines in my days of doubts and gray clouds, you said; “in my eyes, darling you shine” Maybe you loved me then but I know, I loved you too late.

In your song let me be the words & in two we don’t have to sing in thirds.

I do struggle because I’m attracted to beautiful things, yet at the same time I am actually very aware, in some sense, their lack of value and that the most important things in life are your connections to other people.

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane.

I had to find the interconnection of my brain together with my physiology.

Though leaves are many, the root is one.

All mankind is us, whether we like it or not.

I never considered my dreams wasted energy; they were invariably linked to some form of action. When I dreamed about having a lemonade stand, for example, it wasn’t long before I set up a lemonade stand.

Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement. Not A before B, but all together.

Really connecting with someone and maybe opening their mind a little bit, is such a cool thing to be able to do through music.