A human life has seasons much as the earth has seasons, each time with its own particular beauty and power. And gift. By focusing on springtime and summer, we have turned the natural process of life into a process of loss rather than a process of celebration and appreciation. Life is neither linear nor stagnant. It is movement from mystery to mystery. Just as a year includes autumn and winter, life includes death, not as an opposite but as an integral part of the way life is made.

Life is not merely to be alive, but to be well.

So you can't dance? Not at all? Not even one step? How can you say that you've taken any trouble to live when you won't even dance?

Most of life is hell. It’s filed with failure and loss. People disappoint you. Dreams don’t work out. Hearts get broken. Innocent journalists die. And the best moments of life, when everything comes together, are few and fleeting. But you’ll never get to the next great moment if you don’t keep going. So that’s what I do. I keep going.

After traveling through fourteen foreign countries and appearing before all the royalty and nobility I have only one wish today. That is that when my eyes are closed in death that they will bury me back in that quiet little farm land where I was born.

So much pressure in this life of mine, I cry at times, I once contemplated suicide and woulda tried, but when I held that nine, all I could see was my mama's eyes, no one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble, not knowing it's hard to carry on when no one loves you.