“I feel as if I am the eye of my own storm, still, like the mermaid, at the center of my own chaos.”

“I don't even feel as if I'm the center of my own world, so how am I supposed to feel as though I'm the center of anyone else's?”

“I stand here on this spring day in the center of my life. Chaos, din, and beauty. For a moment, I am still.”

“For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.”

“I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.”

“They said even in the storm we'll find some lights, So here I am trying to find my own light in my stormy days.”