“The way the snowflakes float like tiny featherstheres an elegance to it. I could watch for hours. Its hypnotic. It reminds me of the feeling I get when I stand on the beach, watching the waves. Im ...”

“I would love to think that the essence of who we are continues after we die. Maybe our soul moves on somehow, and eventually we are reborn. Or maybe, we get absorbed into god like a drop of water i...”

“They spent years putting the tiniest of details on these works of art. It reminded me of what we try to do with ourselves. We spend years trying to paint our personalities to look a certain way or ...”

“Its still hard to live in a foreign country with unfamiliar people, even when youre with the person you love. I dont have any roots or history of my own here. A person needs their history around th...”

“An adventure is nothing but a story. After the adventure ends, its nothing but a memory; a shadow of a life you lived. People will envy you for the time it takes you to tell the story. But after th...”

“Weather is cyclical. Its falling and then rising. Its movement. Swaying, drifting, and swirling. Its power. Gravity, evaporation, and erosion. Its a potpourri of human emotion. Happiness, sadness, ...”

“It is only a barbarous mind that sees other than the flower, merely an animal mind that dreams of other than the moon.”

“This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.”

“stronger than mountains.a place where my heart feels the safest- underneath his shirt.”

“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that youve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you sa...”

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there i...”

“If I ever saw my muse she would be an old woman with a tight bun and spectacles poking me in the middle of the back and growling, "Wake up and write the book!”

“To feed your Muse, then, you should always have been hungry about life since you were a child. If not, it is a little late to start.”

“Laughing in my ear is a muse amused by how I paint her whims on paper with silly words.”