Worms Are The Words But Joy's The

The Moon Rattles Like A Fragment Of Angry Candy

We Do Not Believe In Ourselves Until Someone Reveals That Deep Inside Us Something Is Valuable, Worth Listening To, Worthy Of Our Trust, Sacred To Our Touch. Once We Believe In Ourselves We Can Risk Curiosity, Wonder, Spontaneous Delight Or Any Experience That Reveals The Human Spirit.

All Which Isn't Singing Is Mere Talking... And All Talking's To Oneself Alone But The Very Song Of (as Mountains Feel And Lovers) Singing Is Silence.

The Three Saddest Things Are The Ill Wanting To Be Well, The Poor Wanting To Be Rich, And The Constant Traveler Saying 'anywhere But Here'.

It May Take Two People To Make A Really Beautiful Mistake.