All the love I have left over from my last relationship is covered in tinfoil and labeled “Do Not Eat.” Since I don’t feel like cooking or making love, I’ll probably have it for dinner tonight.

My meeting was at 9:00 AM, and I walked in the room at 9:01. She said, “You’re late.” I stopped, my jaw open and slack, because I knew she was right. I was late—but for what? I was late for love.

The human eye is restricted to see the useen, because there’s a price to be paid to the rulers of this image and if this image is seen by you, you’ll dare not divulge it to others, for others must pay a price

My mother is from Cairo, Georgia. This makes everything she says sound like it went through a curling iron. Other people sound flat to my ear; their words just hang in the air. But when my mother says something, the ends curl.

I think we all should be in love once in our lifetime, even if we’re in love with someone who’s not alive in our lifetime. Long distance relations are hard, especially when you’re separated by six feet of dirt.

The core of your true self is never lost. Let go of all the pretending and the becoming you've done just to belong.Curl up with your rawness and come home. You don't have to find yourself; you just have to let yourself in.

His haircut looked like a spinning Frisbee on his forehead, and that’s why I fell in love. Because his girlfriend got tired of stray dogs trying to catch his face, and she liked that I attracted cats with my catnip body odor.

The ice cube melted slowly like a candle, and I thought about my love for her and how it was like an ice cube candle and that I’ve always wanted to drink fire and make love with the ferociousness of a cooked spaghetti noodle.

To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.

Vanessa Sky Ellis scours the streets of NYC looking for celebrities to take selfies with, while I scrounge up quarters to try to buy love out of vending machines. I have had sex with more plastic bottles than I care to take pictures of.

In strange and uncertain times such as those we are living in, sometimes a reasonable person might despair. But hope is unreasonable and love is greater even than this. May we trust the inexpressible benevolence of the creative impulse.

I loved her bravely, like a fighter turned sprinter. I loved her so fiercely that I never even dared speak of my feelings. And because I displayed as much passion as a statue, our relationship stood perfectly still and never moved anywhere.

The highest prize we can receive for creative work is the joy of being creative. Creative effort spent for any other reason than the joy of being in that light filled space, love, god, whatever we want to call it, is lacking in integrity. . .

Lover’s Lane is so narrow only unicycles can travel down it. My high school teachers didn’t call me “The Babe Ruth of the Bicycle” for nothing. It’s too bad they didn’t call me that, because it was accurate.

It may, after all, be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights but no durable way of life for those who cannot translate their psychic wounds into significant art or thought.