Poetry, above all, is a series of intense moments – its power is not in narrative. I’m not dealing with facts, I’m dealing with emotion.

The most fragile, unhappy people destine themselves to live lives of constantly reminding themselves to be happy.

Love is a circular emotion that surrounds you, like a hug. Or a noose.

I wish I could have lived just one day when the world was new. I wish—I wish I could have reaped just one single, solitary, big Emotion before the world had caught it and—appraised it—and...

Logic in all its infinite potential, is the most dangerous of vices. For one can always find some form of logic to justify his action, and rest comfortably in the assurance, that what he did...

The important thing is not the object of love, but the emotion itself.

I never thought meeting you would be this boring. I thought we’d put our Italian emotion into gear and scream the place down. I never expected indifference.

In Life, What Would Be Best For You, You Know It Best….

My Mother – AmmaHer touch was my solace,Her smile did encourage,Her love was my strength,Her stare, I fully decant,Her care was my power,Her joy was my shower,Her anger corrected my path,Her laughter filled my heart,Her...

It is difficult to love someone who loves you, but easy to hate someone who loves you, and love someone who hates you.

Bad feeling is a country no woman want to visit. So they take good feeling any which way it come. Sometime that good feeling come by taking on a different kind of bad feeling.

I’m fading, Bethany, I know it. I think that’s what happened to my dad, that’s why I can’t see him. One day I’ll be so see-through that you’ll forget I was ever here, just like...

I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah… Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting...

Growing up, coming to terms with, and living through the complications of Diabetes.

Part of him wanted to weep… but his purpose was rigid within him. He felt he could not bend to gentleness without breaking.

So one must be resigned to being a clock that measures the passage of time, now out of order, now repaired, and whose mechanism generates despair and love as soon as its maker sets it...