Don’t ever rope me in as a late-night talk show host. I don’t want to be one.

I don’t really believe in ‘directions’ in art; the rope twists as you follow it, that’s all.

Using a mannequin and some rope, could you ride two bicycles at once? Next time, try three bikes. Then truly love someone, because that’s even harder.

Pursuing a dream without God’s approval is as dangerous as walking on a rope bridge over a big gutter? Guess the end….!

The rope longed-for her beloved, the ceiling hook. The suspended body; a harbinger of good news. Love was lost. Love was found.

I had a dream about you. You were riding a walrus like a cowboy, and I was riding a cowboy like a cowboy. I waved at you, and you waved your lasso over your head....

I certainly do get at the end of my rope at times. We all do.

Brandon, until this very moment, the world and the people in it have always been dark and incomprehensible to me, and I’ve tried to clear my way with logic and superior intellect, and you’ve thrown...