The sins of the Fathers that are visited upon the Sons is not ignorance, but indifference to the truth.

My poetry lives in the spaces of time, in between time, in time out. It is not a constant vibe; I catch it like the incoming tide, going out again. It will not let me say what I want to say for words cannot be woven together to express me that way. My words have learned to be patient for nothing. Now is my time out.

I have never known anything to be as exquisite or as excruciating as the Love-Hate relationship I have with writing.

Fidelity to the truth is the obligation of all those who claim to love it. It is the unseen halo that accompanies those that seek to share their light, it is the reason why we can still believe in good and claim our humanity. It is the only condition that gives us the power by which we may love unconditionally.

Of all the dreams of love that ever I have dreamed, no matter how fantastic, no matter how unbelievablely dear, no matter the shed tears, the heartfelt sadness or joy. I have found that real love is more wonderful than any dream.

Whatever happens right now, it has to happen.