Kindness is like a muscle, the more we exercise it the better we are at it. Kindness starts as a thought but ends as an action. Acting kindly toward others is the only real way to let people know we care about them and their happiness. Without action...
I left Hairball to his manic mantric singing. I walked toward the house and stopped to rub some white pine needles on my fingers. The evergreen smelled fresh and alive. The needles were long and soft to the touch. I looked back at Hairball. The moon ...
I am the woman at the water’s edge, offering you oranges for the peeling, knife glistening in the sun. This is the scent and taste of my skin: citon and sweet. Touch me and your life will unfold before you, easily as this skirt billows then sinks, ...
Remember to delight yourself first, then others can be truly delighted." This was my mantra when I published my first book in 1990, and still holds true. When we focus on the song of our soul and heart, then others will be touched similarly. Sometime...
This philistinism of interpretation is more rife in literature than in any other art. For decades now, literary critics have understood it to be their task to translate the elements of the poem or play or novel or story into something else. Sometimes...
Hearts In Me If I look to the world with hearts in my eyes Then surely I’ll be intrigued and inspired. If I touch the world with hearts in my hands Then surely I’ll learn how to understand. If I listen to the world with hearts in my ears Then sur...
I remember being in the mood for love at the slightest provocation- your nubile body feeling undeniably illicit, under mine, rhyming, heaving, breathing together, each other, squirrel hands, down and across and stolen kisses, on and not on the lips. ...
Why I Wake Early Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who made the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the miserable and the crotchety – best preacher t...
Hummingbird Flitting, darting A restless quest To fuel a fire That burns your breast Seeking sweetness For selfish glee Bringing gifts So heedlessly Your touch a trigger You fire life Igniting beauty In vibrant strife To equal you In colors bright Th...
When I read poetry, I want to feel myself suddenly larger … in touch with—or at least close to—what I deem magical, astonishing. I want to experience a kind of wonderment. And when you report back to your own daily world after experiencing the ...
As writers we live life twice, like a cow that eats its food once and then regurgitates it to chew and digest it again. We have a second chance at biting into our experience and examining it. ...This is our life and it's not going to last forever. Th...
We tangle and merge. Love and let go. No one will ever know her like I do. I’ve touched every inch of skin. I’ve explored every part of her being. I love her shy when I pull her to my hips, my lap. I love her present uncertainty for things she kn...
Just as a warrior must anticipate his enemy’s behavior and reactions and understand the dangers, and just as a hunter must know the behavior patterns of animals that he hunts, in order for us to heal, to achieve and maintain a state of mental and p...
They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoe...
Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in orde...
An author's extraliterary utterance (blunt information), prenovel or postnovel, may infiltrate journalism; it cannot touch the novel itself. Fiction does not invent out of a vacuum, but it ; and what it invents is, first, the fabric and cadence of la...
I think memory is the most important asset of human beings. It’s a kind of fuel; it burns and it warms you. My memory is like a chest: There are so many drawers in that chest, and when I want to be a fifteen-year-old boy, I open up a certain drawer...
Early in her career, Muse engaged her skills for technical purposes, such as document translation and schematic visualizations for government entities. She continued to write and paint poetically, in secret, using her pen name, Muse. An inner compass...
The Actor, noticing a closed bookshop, dismounted from the horse which he tied to a street lamp. He woke up the bookseller and bought a Spanish grammar and dictionary. He set out again across town marveling at the way that the words of the foreign la...
Though the world was hazy, all I could think about was love. And how I'd never had it. How I would never understand what it felt like to fall asleep knowing another person was thinking of you. I would never have someone touch the small of my back as ...
It is only when one knows the unutterability of the name of God that one can utter the name of Jesus Christ; it is only when one loves life and the earth so much that without them everything seems to be over that one may believe in the resurrection a...
