January 2011
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I wish you a broken heart and a happy new year.
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December 2010
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The passion of lovers is for death.
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My mouth was a crib and it was growing lies.
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Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there....
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Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on...
– Buddha