“My mind is the sun,and my heart is the moon.In the sky between them,there I am.Cristen Rodgers”

“Dont hide your hurt, beautiful soul. Grab a hold of it. Run it through the purifying flame of your heart and mold it into something beautiful. Allow the depths of your pain to expand the breadth of...”

“Listen closely. Even the trees exhale sweet love songs that roll off their boughs and echo out to all of creation. Love is always in the air.”

“Maybe the moon just lost herself gazing too long at the brilliance of the sun and thats how she got her glow. And maybe were made of the same mysterious sort of magic that makes us magnify and mirr...”

“The universe is a deep, still body of water in which we all swim. Every move that we make creates a ripple that echoes across reality and the deeper that we swim, the more force those waves carry ...”

“Let's nurture our spirits until they shine and then let's strip down to our naked souls and dance through life until we drop little bits of light behind us that glow like fireflies in the night. ”

“There is no shame in ignorance before a higher power but there is shame in arrogance.”

“The 'Good News' is, the messiah cometh. The bad news is, he never does.”

“Travel is useful, it exercises the imagination. All the rest is disappointment and fatigue. Our journey is entirely imaginary. That is its strength.It goes from life to death. People, animals, citi...”

“Let us dream of tomorrow where we can truly love from the soul, and know love as the ultimate truth at the heart of all creation.”

“Pride be damned, we do what must be done to survive.”

“I'd love to do comedy. And I think I have a pretty good sense of comic thing, so I'd really like to try that.”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”