“And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.”

Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.

The distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.

Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.

There is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way-has an almost hypnotic effect.

Our emotions pull us in different directions. The stronger the emotion, the greater the pull. Feelings are not always practical, nor do they make any logical sense. That’s just the way it goes.

When was the last time you felt like someone knew you and not the person you’ve been pretending to be. When was the last time you felt like yourself.

Now that you have it all, do you ever wish you could go back to when you had it simple?

The memory of you is fading, a little at a time, and I can feel myself forgetting.

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 know you are scared. Who could blame you? Love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.

Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.

It was beautifully worded and painfully read; the things that were written, were those never said.

There is one who you belong to, whose love- there is no song for.

I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.

The feeling is like the ocean. Sometimes calm and still; other times, it’s a hurricane.

Summer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss goodnight.

Changing your nature is the hardest thing to do. But I discovered that you can be who you choose to be.

This is the hardest part for me. Just the waiting – the waiting to fight. The work has all been done, and you just have to wait.

Do you know what is the hardest thing in life? To make a choice.

When I went to jail, reality hit so hard that it took my breath away, took my stance away, took my strength away. I was there buck naked, humiliated, sitting in my own crap and urine – this is a metaphor. My ego had run off. Your ego is the biggest coward.

Nothing dies so hard, or rallies so often as intolerance.

I’m not sure why writing for others became harder. Probably a reluctance to give away anything you might conceivably use yourself caused a block. I did it, but it remained hard when it had once been easy.

You dont know how hard it was for me to take you and leave them alive.

Wilderness is harder and harder to find these days on this beautiful planet, and we’re abusing our planet to the point of almost no return.