She is a friend of my mind... The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.
I'm just trying to look at something without blinking.
As you enter positions of trust and power, dream a little before you speak.
This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruits it will not bear. And when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say that the victim had no right to live. We're wrong, of course... but among the sunflowers and the garbage of my town, it's much, much, much too late.