Quotes by John Geddes

...there is a myth called objective reality - we think an impersonal world exists apart from us - it doesnt - it needs us to be ...

...I know Shakespeare said art is holding up a mirror to nature- but youre actually bending and refracting it through your interior dialogue ...

...the bones of cirrus clouds stand out like ribs against the sky - an angel is stretching...

...when youre broken, everything gets a little honester - you make mistakes and dont give a damn - you give up on perfection, but get real...

...Use your finger to trace the scar upon my chest- I lied - it wasnt a knife wound, but a scrape from a nail sliding under a fence to see you...

...who would have known the dark eyes staring into mine would become our childrens eyes...?

...did you know that in your eyes there are bright flecks of green and orange - and that they are lovely?...

... the house is on fire, but go ahead - finish painting the verandah...

...weve let go of so many things, but never each others hand ...

...you betrayed me, but after all those years I discover, my tears have wiped the slate clean...

...God and your heart both whisper - incline your ear - dont just learn from your head...

...Everyone struggles to guard their heart from breaking, when they should desire to have a heart that breaks...

...its merely writing, but you have to adjust your ear – I speak quietly – I sob – I whisper...

...is the writer a prophet or priest - does he show the truth or serve the truth?...

...some writers closet themselves - I write wherever I am because thats where life is happening ...

...its good to know wave and particle alpha code, but more than that, the writer must go to the heart of life ...

...if you want your own distinctive voice, you first have to become someone...

...my writing is a wild mustang - more thunderous than a lightning storm -and all my skill which I call art, is devoted to simply staying on...

...that icy glass reduces your beauty - dims your fire - let me be your mirror...

...dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field...