If You Were The Sky,

Greed Is The Lack Of Confidence Of One's Own Ability To Create.

Popularity Is Not An Indication Of Quality.

Poetry Is Our Heart, Our Spirit, Our Soul. Call It Whatever; Without It, Everything Else Is Nothing But Hardware.

It's Weird How People Who Are The Least Close To Me Or Who've Never Even Met Me Purport To Be Experts On The Real Me; And Then, Sadly, There Are Those Who Could Be In Touch With Me But Prefer To Gossip With Strangers About Me Instead.

Remembrance Of Our Kiss Brings Not Your Lips Nor Mine To Mind. The Flesh Can Only Envy Consumption So Divine.