

it's not how much you write in paper, but how much you write in heart.
well that just happens to be my middle name.
i've got more ideas than a kangaroo's got hops.
she obviously can't write a billboard if she can't write 140 characters.
overcome with a deadly level of confidence today, this could be trouble if it keeps up.
fresh off the fruit press.
as long as everyone knows where the fruit originated.
want to write my blog for me tonight, just write some random stuff about mesa verde, the four corners, and my new host family.
i'm not going to write about what i did today, i did this, then that, bla bla bla. other people can record that. but i'm the only person that can record my feelings, my thrivings, my longings. and that's what i'm going to write about.
alright all you people. i don't mean to get sappy, but you've all gotta shed some romance. find that person you love, write them a poem. write them a sweet kind letter. make them something homemade. rather than buying roses, make them something. rather than buying a card, make them a card. express your feelings in a new manner. have some romance, some laughter, and give it some creativity. it sparks the relationship...and its just hip hop horray fun!
not sure if it's right or write ...about the fog.
why quote, when you can write your own.
you have to live before you can write.
read by day, write by night.
write from the heart and not from the wallet and you'll be just fine.
today is one with a million words and no pencil to write.
to write or to live.
what the heck, my shampoo is frozen.
Good, I love doin git.
I feel this is going in the write direction.
what is with the social frenzy? get over it people. what ever happened to nature...isn't that real?
new years eve...i think i'd like to sit alone and write.
cuz you write it so good baby.
chipmunk tails growing from my elbows.
perhaps the least amount of effort i've ever seen.
the words i write are not of talent, they are of emotion, passion, and love.
i'm throwing your intimacy towel back at you, and it's soaking wet.
pimp squeekin' clean.
bugsy speak.
not so much love, not as much as the will to love. it's not so much livng, as it is the will to live.
don't forget that so many of the things you want to know are only a question away.
a little close to home now.
rawr.
taking out the acorns.
when you write...sweat.
i write my eyes with beauty.
it's funny how the world works fine, yet when you give humans a new device, then take it away, their entire world collapses and they don't know how to operate without it, despite working perfectly fine before given.
it's like chipmunks and daffodils.
we. we filled our lives with glee, no matter what it may be. i once wrote a poem about love, and how it spreads from sea to sea. maybe tonight i'll write a poem, about you being all i see. we never got to sit down for tea, but hot apple cider once, and our hearts were set free. i may not be feeling good, but i learned from you to me. in terms of completely, you and your smiles are lovely.
i hate when i write on an oyster with an ink pen and then it blows up like a marshmallow on shrooms.
sometimes when i'm chewing a piece of gum i form it into the shape of a key to unlock my door.
it's really strange when you walk five steps and think you have walked three, so you back track two steps, and by then have actually walked seven steps.