May our hearts find hope in our touch.

All things old become new again. In my youth the athletes had crew cuts and the hippies had long hair. Now the athletes have long hair and the hippies are bald.

May your dreams be larger than mountains and may you have the courage to scale their summits.

Tomorrow is a memory best forgotten.

God is taking a nap within my soul. I ponder whether to wake Him or not.

Life often is a bucket of water sitting on a farmer’s porch. Our choice is in the drinking.

May your dreams be gifts from the gods and may you open them with excitement and pleasure.

Memory shimmers as a crystal lakethat reflects all things invisible.

What’s the use of writing poetry for your peers? I don’t think I should sell my poetry to other poets. If that’s who my audience is, I’m dead, I’m not going to make any money.

Hope is a rainbow of thought.

Reading haiku is as much an art as writing it. The reader needs to pause and listen to the silences, to feel the spaces between the words, and to journey into the depths of many...

Writing poetry is about learning to pare down the poem to the most essential words. Every word used has to be crucial to the poem.

Memory is a sly devil that pretends to wear the cloak of truth, but deceives us both in our youth and our age.

What I really want is to be recognized as a writer; that someday, my poetry — this is an interesting paradox — would be taught in English classes; for my name, along with my poetry,...

Haiku does not express emotion from the inside out by displaying the mind of a character. Haiku builds the emotional thrust, makes the artistic statement from the outside in, from the physical world to the...

Too often our visions of the futureare dull and impotentlike a hammer beating the water.

I feel the healinghands of Godtouch my heartand kiss my soul.

May your journey through life be vibrant and full of colorful rainbows.

Reading haiku is like viewing a photograph or a painting. A haiku is a moment of time, isolated, and held up for viewing.

Sometimes we fight who we are, struggling against ourselves and our natures. But we must learn to accept who we are and appreciate who we become. We must love ourselves for what and who we...

God steals my soul.

Story is a butterfly whose wings transport us to another world where we receive gifts that change who we are and who we want to be.

I write because I have to write; but I also write because there’s somebody out there, hopefully, who will read it.

How little we understandof the gifts we have been givenor the shape of the pathwe took to reach our salvation.

Sometimes thatwhich we fearstrengthens ourspirit and givesus a splashof hope.

Our stories are not new; yet, in the retelling we are reborn as heroes.

Nothing stays the same and nothing changes. What is old today will be new tomorrow. What is new today will be forgotten tomorrow.

Sometimes we live too much in the past,remembering what we wished had happened.

Sometimes memory is the only gift we give ourselves and the only hope we have of finding our way home.

Our flesh is a gift of laughter.

Over time our tears will help heal the pain and soothe the hurt.

Sometimes we wait too long for the forgiveness of our fathers.

If I woke up one morning and realized that all I ever was going to be was a business man, I’d probably die. All my dreams would be shattered. Early in life I had many...

Service to others in their time of need is a privilege and an honor.

May your heart be lighter today.

Laughter is a gift for lovers.

We fear what we most desire.

So much is buried in our lives that we forget what we have learned.

I climb aboard my tricycle and pedal my heart to the stars.

The more I try to be perfect; the more I fail.

One must give himself completely to his art and not hold back. Throw caution to the wind. Embrace the muse. Make love to your art.

Too much has been given and too much has been lost.