Quotes from John Geddes

words are so strong and I am so timid - my soul ignores warnings and I end up covered with your paint ...

God is not a Sunday plumber - he's always available...

He heard her in his heart - whispering from the mist

don't be self-conscious - other people are completely unaware of you and more concerned with how they appear ...

when I think of you it's with tears, because no one else has such delicate hands that can reach into my soul and calm my fears...

when I met you, you were so beautiful, the air around you vibrated with color ...

we fear monsters because we fear the dark parts of ourselves...

it begins with isolation - demons always inhabit desolate places...

allowing yourself to be vulnerable makes you weak but also opens you to the nuances of beauty...

the abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart...

everything is gone except traces of you inside me - and the years like the wind are sweeping those away ...

the heart breaks in so many different ways that when it heals, it will have fault lines ...

you have a terrible beauty that scares me - a fierce defiance that won't be subdued - not that i want to tame you - I don't - I like to look...

and you thought beauty was the outward show - but now you know the truth, my Love - it's always been the inner fire...

we've let go of so many things, but never each other's hand ...

I deliberately spilled the black ink of despair because my perfect soul was a stained glass illusion - can you understand that?...

I'm not afraid of the opinions of others - but of being needed and coming up short ...

I gave you painted air - tears I couldn't weep - truths I couldn't speak - all the words that caught in my throat...

I'm innocent still -inside me are stained glass windows that have never been broken- and when I see your light it stains my soul with color ...

when everything changes, I need a bookmark - I need you...

Neruda was right about all mysterious women - The moon lives in the lining of their skin...

I lost my illusions in a black rain of bitterness - now what do you see in my eyes? How can you still love me? How can I be tender? ...

in January, everything seems desolate. The Moon ascends to cold heights - and I, a ragged sky filled with dark kisses...lie abandoned by you...

that yearning inside you that seeks for fulfillment - does it still burn?...