“I became the fractured shell of a mustard seed to dwell for an eye-blink amid a starburst galaxy of broken dreams.”

“The ability to find pixilation amid the pixelation is at the essence of the gift of celestial Grace.”

“The relentless persistence of Light eventually exhausts darkness.”

“New York had pushed and bent and bullied, driving me underground to sort out the madness and sculpt my Being with my own hands in self-discovery on its cold pottery wheel and in the white heat of i...”

“A perfectly clear photograph is a distortion of reality.”

“New York City is where specks of dust aspire randomly with all their cunning to become grains of sand.”

“He wanted to be a poet,' someone else put in while Maggie hugged Tim and patted his back. 'Said he'd only lacked the words to be one.”

“I act as the tongue of you,... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.”

“To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely-ordered variety on the chords of em...”

“If I paint a wild horse, you might not see the horse... but surely you will see the wildness!”

“He who looks through an open window sees fewer things than he who looks through a closed window.”

“The only thing worse than being blind is having sight and no vision.”