“I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.”

I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.

I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.

If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.

I’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.

Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.

Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.

I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.

This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.

I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.

I’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.

There will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.

Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.

How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.

I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.

In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.

I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.

Politics is not an end, but a means. It is not a product, but a process. It is the art of government.

If those who do not possess knowledge avoid the scholarly discussions, disagreement will end.

For the majority of people, though they do not know what to do with this life, long for another that shall have no end.

This lack of self-control I fear is never ending.

I am doomed to an eternity of compulsive work. No set goal achieved satisfies. Success only breeds a new goal. The golden apple devoured has seeds. It is endless.

I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter. I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter.

In the end we’re all Jerry Springer guests, really, we just haven’t been on the show,

Things aren’t the way they were before, you wouldn’t even recognize me anymore. Not that you knew me back then, but it all comes back to me in the end.