We Are The Star And The Darkness

My Life Is In The Art That I Make, And I'm Very Happy With It.

I Dreamt A Limitless Book, A Book Unbound, Its Leaves Scattered In Fantastic Abundance On Every Line There Was A New Horizon Drawn, New Heavens Supposed; New States, New Souls.

Spring, If It Lingers More Than A Week Beyond Its Span, Starts To Hunger For Summer To End The Days Of Perpetual Promise. Summer In Its Turn Soon Begins To Sweat For Something To Quench Its Heat, And The Mellowest Of Autumns Will Tire Of Gentility At Last, And Ache For A Quick Sharp Frost To Kill Its Fruitfulness. Even Winter — The Hardest Season, The Most Implacable — Dreams, As February Creeps On, Of The Flame That Will Presently Melt It Away. Everything Tires With Time, And Starts To Seek Some Opposition, To Save It From Itself.

You Can Plan To Be Brave - It's Even Better If You Just Try To Be Brave.

I've Never Worked Where It Was Hard To Be Gay. Besides, Being Gay Is A Spectacular Irrelevance To Getting On With Your Life.