He believes we’re all just lovers, he sees hope in everyone.

The sun that beams down as my hands touch the grass, after summers of fasting I feel hunger at last. I'm the person 15-year-old me would be proud to have known.

Harder days coming, maybe, I don't mind. Sounds kind of dumb when I say it, but it's true I would do anything for you.

You scream 'I won't forget you,' but I cover my cold ears. It cannot be a lie if no-one hears.

We were sitting around—Guinevere, Gawain, Yvain, and myself— talking about the things we would do for Lancelot and the love of Lancelot, if his love happened to be ours.

The wheat leans back toward its own darkness, and I lean toward mine.

Of everything I don't know or am utterly wrong about, I have the best guesses for. I am a fountain of approximate knowledge. Ask me something I don't know and I'll give you a better wrong answer than anyone else. Some walk hundreds of miles to seek my miscouncil.

Open your eyes to the darkness and drown in its loveless embrace. The gods will not be watching.

In the grass that has overgrown causes and effects, someone must be stretched out, blade of grass in his mouth, gazing at the clouds.

I’m not scared. I’ve got friends, I took my call, became courageous. Now I feel like I’m home.

Am I, my Lord, a monster or sea? Are my bones made of iron, or my flesh of brass?

It’s found in the last witness before the wave hits, marveling at God, before he feels alone one final time and marries the sea. Imagine being loved by me.

I Annihilate Irrevocably. / I am lost irrevocably.

The birds sing you a lullaby and the lake cradles you in its waves, the shore a mere whisper away. (A monster is a monster is a monster is a —) The wind tickles your nose and the cut on your arm bleeds, pulsing red into the clear water. (Maybe it’s better if—)

We saw a sick, bare pine tree covered only with countless pine cones. Zvi said that trees about to die bear more cones than the vital ones. I said to him: That was a poem and you didn’t even realize it. Even though you are a man of exact sciences you made a poem.

You don't have to sing it right. but who could call you wrong? You don't have to sing it nice, but, honey, sing it strong. At best, you find a little remedy, at worst the world will sing along.

The little girl who wanted to make this cruel, twisted world a better place, futile as that is. She's going to get us killed one of these days... but what can I say? I love her. I forgive her.

The number of the Trinity is three and perfect. Lancelot is, and is, and is.

Souls are tuned like instruments: and make up the concert – what are you saying? It remains for the conductor to brandish the baton from the wings.

Moses saw the face of God just once and then forgot. He didn’t want to see the desert, not even the Promised Land, only the face of God.

When they found you hanging the the wood, you said ‘at least now I don’t have to be kind or good.’

Open up the promise of the day Drive the dark things away I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you.

The fridge is brimmed up with presents you wrapped for your wrongmouth. Now it is the birthday of time’s intention. Open it.

The first thing God made is love. Then comes blood, and the thirst for blood.

The first thing God made is love. Then comes blood, and the thirst for blood.

Inside a ruined temple the broken statue of a god spoke a mysterious language.

He believes we’re all just lovers, he sees hope in everyone.

you were saved not in order to live you have little time you must give testimony

Agassiz explained that the best way to get to God was with a scalpel. To split the skin and look inside.

No matter how powerless you feel or how desperate things look… there’s always something we can do, yeah?

I passed a billboard down the block that asks if I’ve had enough, and aloud I say ‘I’ve had too much.’ The truth is, I’m just getting started.

In my hands I hold a broom, in my heart— ashes, ashes.

how graceful they are, this reaper’s hands. he plucks the heart from within me with the practiced ease of a florist; as if he will make of it the centerpiece of a nuptial bouquet.

o, ill-willed dark, give with the sound of rain, let love be brought to ignorance again.

Remember when you'd sing, just for the fuck of it, and any joy it would bring? Honey, the look of it was as sweet as the sound.

Why write love poetry in a burning world? To train myself in the midst of a burning world to offer poems of love to a burning world.

’Tis not for my benefit. A certain lord was most distressed when he learned of your intent to risk life and limb to stop Iceheart. It took half a dozen knights to restrain him, I am told.

From one infinity he fled into another; and then stumbled.

I’d be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around. I’d be the immediate forgiveness from Eurydice.

Love is speaking in code, it’s an inside joke, love is coming home.

Eyes as sharp as can openers pried open heavy secrets. But through the wound in my chest God peers into the universe.

Harder days coming, maybe, I don't mind. Sounds kind of dumb when I say it, but it's true I would do anything for you.

The lip of the cup kissing mine in my friend’s hands was like the sun: a fire burned in the vine’s water devouring me but not my gown.

I lost my way out of the woods on the night every bird went south or numb.

Everything looks burned up, I'm too scared to look around Don't feel like going on but come on, make a joyful sound If you will believe in your heart And confess with your lips Surely you will be saved one day.

The sun that beams down as my hands touch the grass, after summers of fasting I feel hunger at last. I'm the person 15-year-old me would be proud to have known.

But to rescue a soul is as close as anyone comes to God. Think of Noah lifting a small black bird from its nest. Think of Joseph raising a son that wasn’t his.

You could laugh and cry in a single sound, and your strength is devastating in the face of all these odds. Remember how I kept you waiting, when it was my turn to be the god?

Open up the promise of the day Drive the dark things away I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you.

Oh, I can't fall asleep in your arms. So tell me a story and I'll put myself to sleep.