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So tonight I'm calling all astronauts All the lonely people that the world forgot If you hear my voice come pick me up Are you out there? 'Cause you're all I've got...
You say good morning when it's midnight Going out of my head, alone in this bed I wake up to your sunset And it's drivin' me mad, I miss you so bad And my heart heart heart is so jetlagged
Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating ... but there are other ways to understanding.
When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.
Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.
We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.
Zur Autorenbiographie