“I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.”

I will celebrate this life of mine, with or without you. The moon does not need the sun to tell her she is already whole.

You said my sadness was like the sun, beautiful from a distance but it hurt you too much to come closer.

When you don’t have the whole attention of someone, you find yourself begging for it from everyone.

And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.

The greatest injustice I have suffered has come under the pretense of love.

You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole.

We were born to walk this world in intersecting lines.

Somehow, there is a sense of comfort in knowing nothing will ever hit me quite as hard again. Nothing will ever be as beautiful, but neither will anything hurt as much.

I was coming to the end of a difficult period in my life, though when the end isn’t in plain sight, you don’t realize how close you are.

Some days it felt like a burden, to smile for you. To keep the lines of worry from etching into your forehead.

Life has a way of working itself out. You’ll see.

Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.

We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?

You’re young and there’s still so much ahead. So much uncertainty and doubt. It keeps you up at night-this wild, restless feeling. But you don’t know how free you are. For this short, miraculous time, you have no one to answer to, nothing to lose. You belong wholly to yourself.

I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.

The time may not be prime for us, though you are a special person. We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock, in unison.

The rain reminds me of what I couldn’t forget, of what we couldn’t mend, of the things I’ll forever regret.

The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

The purpose of poetry is to remind us / how difficult it is to remain just one person.

My dad’s death reminds me of earthquakes – things that shake your foundation.

Behind every good man, there’s a good woman reminding you I knew you when you didn’t have nothing.

My ex-girlfriend was very sexy. She reminded me of the Sphinx because she was very mysterious and eternal and solid…and her nose was shot off by French soldiers.

I confess, I do have to remind myself almost daily that there are people on this earth capable of reading, writing, eating and dressing themselves who believe their lives are ruled from billions of miles away, by the stars – and, of course, the planets.

I’m staggered by the question of what it’s like to be a multimilionaire. I always have to remind myself that I am.