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“Here you are.
Still standing. Fierce with the reality of love and loss. Wearing the truth of our hearts on your tattered sleeves. And yes, this one very nearly took you out. And yes, there were days when the darkness was heavy and the climb out of that rabbit hole required you to mine your depths for strength you didn’t even know you had.

But here you are.
Broken open by hope. Cracked wide by loss. Full of longing and grief and the burn of that phoenix fire. Warrior painted with ashes. Embers from the blaze still clinging to your newborn skin, leaving you forever marked with scars of rebirth.

And just look at you. Heart broken but still beating. Arms empty but still open. Face raised to the sky and giving thanks for the light, even when it hurts your eyes.

My god, you are beautiful.”
― Jeanette LeBlanc

“May the key of inspiration unlock your dungeon of creativity”
― Kevin Ansbro

“Naked. Fatigue of the body transparent as a glass-tree. Near yourself you hear the brutal rumor of inextricable desire. Night blindly mine. You're farther gone than me. Horror of checking for you in the screams of my poem. Your name is the disease of things at midnight. They had promised me one silence. Your face is closer to me than my own. Phantom memory. How I'd love to kill you â€�”
― Alejandra Pizarnik, The Galloping Hour: French Poems

“When it came down to it, she decided, she believed in a few important things.
In humanity before Dogma.
In religion of human kindness.
In Poetry. In Sex.
In being clear enough to ask for what she wanted,
and detaching from ego enough to hear the answer.
In the power of yoga.
In being embodied.
In owning her reality without apology.
In embracing it all, the fuck-ups and the bliss.
In the absolute necessity of dark chocolate to her continued existence.
In the power of a hard swallow of whiskey to make everything clear.
That most of the time we all do the very best we can.
But most of all, she believed that nothing is fixed and unchanging,
Not even the things she believed the most.
That belief, it turns out, is the one that felt the most like freedom.”
― Jeanette LeBlanc

“Her smile alone could light up the darkest of souls
The scent of a harvest of roses
Skin as soft as silk clothes
Energy explosive”
― Andrew Edward Lucier, Awakenigma Allegory Anomalous

“We artists are often counted as awkward by people who know nothing of how it feels to have another spirit live within you - the muse... Even some artists don't understand us, the mused ones, as our muses have faces and clearly appear to us, while all they have is the inspiration and not the muse. But ancient people knew of them... They said muses were goddesses and ruled upon the arts... It is true. When a muse forms into your mind and splits your spirit in two, you are already seized by it, controlled by it, and so you are bound to serve it and create masterpieces... It is not just we who create muses. They create us too. They form us into who we are.”
― Tamuna Tsertsvadze, Zodiac Circle

“When she laughs the world stops for a while!”
― Avijeet Das

“Not all moments can be between two people. Some moments are between two souls!”
― Avijeet Das

“Home is not just where we come from, It is where we choose to belong.”
― Jeanette LeBlanc

“Some days we need as much quiet courage as we can muster. NOt to risk our lives or our hearts to break paradigms or change the world. But just to wake up and push through the small and aching spaces. To sit down and do the work. To show up in love and fullness. Sometimes, just those things take so much. If this is you today, know that we are in it together. And there’s got to be some power in that.”
― Jeanette LeBlanc

“My muse is a restless genie, a conniving devil, a wanton mistress and a fairy godmother. At times he’s Othello’s Iago, at others he’s Clarence from 'It’s a Wonderful Life'.”
― Kevin Ansbro

“Teach me how to be loved.
Let me show you how to love me well.
School me in the workings of your heart, in the
language of your bones.
Let my open palm memorize the shape of your face.
Tell me the stories of your scars so I can trace them with the honor of understanding.
Do you see this fault line? It is where I was broken, over and over again, by the ones who came before you. Are you willing to take that in? My wide open eyes? My truth lives there, if you look for it. I have been loved by those who didn’t care to discover all that I am.
Will you be the one to see me whole?”
― Jeanette LeBlanc

“She tells me that she would not make for a good conversation. Yet every time that she talks, I don't want her to ever stop!”
― Avijeet Das

“You are the ache in my heart!”
― Avijeet Das

“She told me that she will see me in every wall, in every street, in every glass, in every person, in every wave of the sea and smile.”
― Avijeet Das

“Your love and your love of literature, like song, should flow seamlessly in an unbroken rhythm.”
― A.K. Kuykendall

“P.S. When your deeper Self delivers a dream like that, don't talk about it. Don't dilute its power. The dream is for you. It's between you and your Muse. Shut up and use it.”
― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

“Writers do not always deliberately choose to write about a particular subject or develop select themes; rather the topic and the resultant work product frequently effuse from their pores. I work in an aimless fashion, similar to how a rudderless vessel steers no deliberate course. When the muse grabs us by the throat and makes us speak for it, we cannot question the wisdom behind the message generated by isolated sentences and paragraphs, elect to decipher sequestered ideas, or equivocate with the emotive utterings made while standing alone in the coldness of the night. All we can do is hold a lantern up to the self and take dictation. Later when our muse slumbers, we can evaluate the written scribbling for the resultant collective punch.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“Ritual Version
—for Kate Middleton

humself, shamself, hymnself, shameself�.
lameself, lambself, numbself, unself�.
sing anger, goddess, of�. many devices�.
sing anger godless�. tell me who�.
sacred in the sea suffered so many woes�.
bookshelf, doubtshelf, debtshelf, riftshelf�.
driftshelf, truthshelf, foolshelf, rueshelf�.
sing less the many souls sent�. they perished�.
sing spoils for the dogs�. who swallowed down
the foolish song�. the soul and its companions�.
nounself, nonceself, nonself, lashself�.
ashself, lawself, thoughtself, aughtself�.
tell me, muse, from any point�. and birds�.
sing less the wrath of�. a man’s cleverness�.
tell also usâ€�. of recklessnessâ€�. of homeâ€�.”
― Dan Beachy-Quick

“His lover. His muse. Admirer. Critic. His antagonist. His protector. Defender. His savior. His.”
― Joe Okonkwo, Jazz Moon

“Through the intense rage found behind every literary rejection and the myriad of artistic trials and tribulations; my one constant has always been the love of my life. My wife. My muse.”
― A.K. Kuykendall

“She is a beautiful muse. She cares for me and nurtures our bond. And when she is in my life then I feel an unknown happiness and an unusual serenity. This bond has been strong for a long time by now. And I feel a victory each time when she wins in life.”
― Avijeet Das

“She is my intoxication!”
― Avijeet Das

“Your prescence in my life adds beauty to my existence!”
― Avijeet Das

“Your smile lights up the entire Universe!”
― Avijeet Das

“A hand moved gracefully over the canvas, releasing the first colorful dot onto a sea of white. Her mind traveled to a different realm, and she joined in spirit with every human being whomever dared to take that first stroke, and she
knew the risks; she was willing to pay the price, because wasn’t that what the heart longed for? Whether it be by writing, painting, or music—one only needs to find the strength of courage to walk along the creative path, to search for one’s higher self, and maybe, for just a moment, to gaze into the eyes of God."

â€� AnneMarie Dapp, Autumn Lady”
― AnneMarie Dapp

“Whenever I look at you
you look more beautiful
than the Moon”
― Avijeet Das

“We use the tools of memory and imagination to construct and depict stories; they make up the double-sided face of the same mental coin. Memory houses many images. The ability mentally to depict and store images depends upon the power of association prompted by the rational and imaginative thoughts of the mind. Recollection of past thoughts is dependent upon the quality of our memory system. The Ancient Greeks taught us, memory is the mother of our personal muse.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“When there is fear,he will have his pen clasp it high,whence for him,the wonders of night give light,where he lies behind his own familiar world nigh,holding an inquisitive heart pressed by thoughts to fight.”
― Nithin Purple, Venus and Crepuscule

“Somewhere is light and happy, in elation,
Transparent, warm and simple life there is.
A man across the fence has conversation
With girl before the evening, and the bees
Hear only the tenderest of conversation.

And we are living pompously and hard
And follow bitter rituals like sun
When, flight past us, the unreasoned wind
Interrupts speech that's barely begun.

But not for anything will we change the pompous
Granite city of glory, pain and lies,
The glistening wide rivers' ice
Sunless and murky gardens, and the voice,
Though barely audible, of the Muse.”
― Anna Akhmatova