Read to me the poem where I end up falling asleep on your chest, comforted by the sound of your voice and the beating of your heart.

When an irresistible force meets an immovable object, you have yourself a love story.

Bring a knife to a gunfight and start making sandwiches.

When you cannot create it yourself, champion the beauty that others have made.

The way to a woman's heart, no man knows. When he gets there, it usually by accident and could never retrace his steps.

The tugs you feel in all directions that keep you who you are.

Leave little etches of yourself in every word you write.

Firmly believe I have great stories until I try to tell them.

It's pretty easy to walk into a forest and fall for a redwood tree.

Poets can drown in their earnestness. And in meekness. And in a big bowl of sensitivity. The breed is not made of the strongest of swimmers.

Make a sound in the middle of a forest, trees, for it does not matter if anyone hears.

There is a wildness you can't contain as soon as you step outside.

Love, a shared vulnerability.

Take the fruit from the vine and eat it raw, there's no time for tarts.

There's this trick I like to do where I turn the other cheek. But I can only do it one more time.

Write, without fear of success or failure. Write, for the one who fell in love with your voice. Give them your words, your heart.

Connecting the stars, the poem of the skies.

The want for everyone to stay away except for one.

Let it all out, the good, the bad, the cowboy stories.

Bathe in the meteors, the constellations, the skies full of stardust.