I have a head for heights it's true, but no stomach for the depths. Strange then to have plumbed so many.
As he turned inwards she turned outwards, but while he wore his intensity like a garment, she slept in hers.
Art is about the individual, the individual commitment not tethered to reward. For the maker, and later the reader or the viewer or the listener, there is no obvious reward. There is only the thing-in...
And love? I am still in love with her. Not a day breaks but that I think of her, and when the dogwood turns red in winter I stretch out my hands and imagine her hair. I am in love with her; not a fant...
All of one’s life is a struggle towards that; the narrow path between freedom and belonging. I have sometimes sacrificed freedom in order to belong, but more often I have given up all hope of belongin...
A tough life needs a tough language—and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers—a language powerful enough to say how it is.
You are a pool of clear water where the light plays
What it means to be human is to bring up your children in safety, educate them, keep them healthy, teach them how to care for themselves and others, allow them to develop in their own way among adults...
The tamer my love, the farther away it is from love. In fierceness, in heat, in longing, in risk, I find something of love's nature. In my desire for you, I burn at the right temperature to walk throu...
The planets are bodies in the solar system and so are we. You and I in elliptical orbs circling life. It is life we want, but we daren't come too close for fear it might burn us away, this life in its...
The more I read the more I fought against the assumption that literature is for the minority - of a particular education or class. Books were my birthright too.
So just you take care, what you think is the heart might well be another organ.
She was such a solitary woman. A solitary woman who longed for one person to know her. I think I do know her now, but it is too late.
She arches her body like a cat on a stretch. She nuzzles her cunt into my face like a filly at the gate. She smells of the sea. She smells of rockpools when I was a child. She keeps a starfish in ther...
Our own front door can be a wonderful thing, or a sight we dread; rarely is it only a door.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.’ That’s from the Song of Solomon. We sing what we know.
Jo era feliç, però feliç és una paraula adulta. No cal preguntar-li a un nen si és feliç, ja es veu. O ho són o no ho són. Els adults parlen de ser feliços perquè en general no ho són. Parlar-ne és co...
If the love was passion, the hate will be obsession.
If I am honest I will admit that I have always wanted to avoid love. Yes give me romance, give me sex, give me fights, give me all the parts of love but not the simple single word which is so complex...
I felt like a seed in a pomegranate. Some say that the pomegranate was the real apple of Eve, fruit of the womb, I would eat my way into perdition to taste you.