“All she built had fallen apart it’s OK she believed destruction was art.”

Do things that light up the child in you. Do things that make you feel honest and true.

Allow life to sweep you off your feet, carry that feeling to all those you meet.

Roots exposed completely vulnerable, stand in bareness see what’s discoverable.

Fly through the universe soar wild and free, see where life takes you with authenticity as your decree.

The reflection of me is a reflection of our love too, I know that I am worthy of all that is true.

Abundance is my birthright it starts with harvesting my inner light.

Your feelings are valid they are yours, you can have them.

Learn to love all the differences learn to appreciate everyone’s essence.

Everything I need lives inside of me. Growing each day setting myself free.

Believe in yourself, know that you are great. Keep taking steps forward CHOOSE to run into fate.

It is my duty to help change the world. Finding true love allows me to complete that goal.

Stay open, stay focused. Your mind might just yet sway.

Just before darkness comes and light fades, those rare moments where magic is made.

If you only enjoy the chase I’m not racing anymore, I’ve set my own pace.

Swallow darkness lock and throw away the key. Don’t allow it to ruin the sweet melody.

Look out for tomorrow she will not delay, step into her don’t look back on yesterday.

Sunlight is painting.

Giving comfort under affliction requires that penetration into the human mind, joined to that experience which knows how to soothe, how to reason, and how to ridicule; taking the utmost care never to apply those arts improperly.

History repeats itself, but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.

In the waking dreams our societies permit, in our myths, our arts, our songs, we celebrate the nonbelongers, the different ones, the outlaws, the freaks.

It is my belief no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self knowledge.

Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master of art as of life.

Almost all crime is due to the repressed desire for aesthetic expression.

Tear me open and I will bleed in your name. My heart aches from your absence, but in the aching and breaking is where my art is born.