“Blindfold I walk this life's bewildering maze;
Up flinty steep, through frozen mountain pass,
Through thornset barren and through deep morass:
But strong in faith I tread the uneven ways,
And bare my head unshrinking to the blast,
Because my Father's arm is round me cast;
And if the way seems rough, I only clasp
The hand that leads me with a firmer grasp.”

“He who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.”

“The path I choose through the maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being--one of many ways--and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming.”

“I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.”

“Now I climb the steps to freedom,
The open gates, I can see them.
Hands once I knew
Beckoning me through,
As the sunlight touch my face,
I can feel the warm embrace;
Arms surround me,
My life has found me…”

“Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire.
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight.Truth be told I've tried my best,
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer,
And the cost was so much more than I could bear.”

“In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.”

“I find I very rarely live up to my words. And since you know me primarily through my words, there are oh so many ways I can disappoint.”

“All, wherein I have part,
All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart,
Breaks from the grasping brain. Lo, what is left? I am bare
As a new-born soul, — I am naught:
My deeds are dust in air,
My words are ghosts of thought.
I ride through the night alone,
Detached from the life that seemed,
And the best I have felt or known
Is less than the least I dreamed.”

“I had always turned to books, to knowledge, to help me get through everything in my life—and,
sometimes, to escape it. But grief was a journey through a forest of razor blades. I walked through every
painful inch of it—no shortcuts and no anesthesia.”