Pencil. Paper. Forget the world.

In a corner of my soul there hides a tiny frightened child, who is frightened by a corner where there lingers something wild.

You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.

A night of crying has silenced me. This morning it seems the whole world is against me. I’ve never before felt so barren, so empty. I’ve never before thought the daylight to be … my enemy. My enemy.

There is a secret earth gyrm, a place where the unbelievable, the unthinkable, the terrible, takes place every day. A place hidden by the veils of ignorance and cowardice and fear. On occasions we glimpse it, when its hidden terrors fall through that veil into plain sight, but mostly we just dismiss it as something...

I have often believed the pen to be a needle, and ink to be a thread. Each story is an intricately woven tapestry and with each word I invariably sew a piece of myself into the page.

This is for you, for your breath, whose absence would lessen a greater world.

Instead of blaming yourself for something you cannot undo, let it define you.

Cancer gave me an understanding of the point of all this. To survive. Most of our lives it is easy but for the moments when it becomes difficult, when accident or sickness or sadness strikes, it’s just about remembering one thing. You must simply survive.

There is greater clarity in the still waters of sadness, something not found in the babbling brooks of more sought after emotions.

I am full of mistakes and imperfections and therefore I am real …

And the man who dreamt of flight has tripped and fallen in a hole.

It’s sad that in a world of billions, people can still feel isolated and alone. Sometimes all it takes to brighten up someone’s day is a smile or kind word, or the generous actions of a complete stranger. Small things, the tiny details, these are the things that matter in life — the little glint...

You’re a clever strategist, but not all battles require tricks. Sometimes the simplest way to kill something is to swim up to it and bite it in half.

You smile and draw me near and whisper, “Do as dreamers do.”I lean to you and whisper in your ear, “I cannot dream tonight my Dear. For it is you.

I may be going nowhere, but what a ride.

You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen fall from the sky today.

I hasten to sleep so that I might dreamand colour my mind with a myriad of things.

When the time comes for you to leave this earth, if it doesn’t become a lesser place with your absence, then you have wasted your life.

I ache to swim again. Walking’s for mammals.

We are more than the person who wakes each day. We are the dreams of the previous night and the nightmares of the week before.

Knowledge is too final. Not knowing lets you dream a little.

… being different, being unique … that afforded me a life, a journey that I am now so thankful for.

I saw you before. All your flaws, your imperfections. Your body’s going to a lot of trouble to hide something, something inside of you. It must be very precious.

Then come. Let me send you to see if you have lived your life serving a deity or a dream.

The world is full of people who will help you manufacture tornados in order to blow out a match.

Eyes so young, so full of pain … Two lonely drops of winter rain … And no tear could these eyes sustain … For too much had they seen.

We are pushed towards eternal silence from the moment we are born. So when sadness tries to stifle us, we must not give in. We must keep whispering.

Nothing listens as well as a blank page.

If you doubt, you fall, you fail, you die. Do not doubt.