Sometimes, love burns too brightly to be held in the palm.

Swiped from @sin.xline

A magnificently honest rendering of low self esteem.

The first real poem I ever write, will be in skin.

All that is gold does not glitter; all that wanders is not lost.

by W.J. Whürl

After the fire and flood, the gardeners returned.

Some find themselves only after they are lost.

A red leaf falls

The first book I ever published.