The most important thing is love,” said Leigh-Cheri. “I know that now. There’s no point in saving the world if it means losing the moon.

Looking at a cat, like looking at clouds or stars or the ocean, makes it difficult to believe there is nothing miraculous in this world.

I mean, who wants to be the fucking goddess of macrame?

Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat;  Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best;  Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

Written By Walt Whitman

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