“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”—Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country (via alandistro)
The pants of high school days were thrown away Once college plates were piled with French fries, Grilled cheese, pizza, some pasta, even pies. The taste was fleeting, but to my dismay, Those faithful pants had learned how much I weigh And could no longer fit my hips’ new size: “A moment on the lips, forever on the thighs.” (Those greasy fries—a regret still today.) But I could never hate the one I love; Dear food, my muse, you are the one for me. I hold you not in the heart they write of, But in my stomach. Even when I see A sandwich gazing up at me, it’s love. I’ll buy new pants—for now, my sweet, I’ll eat.
~a beautiful and deeply personal sonnet, written by my best friend. she’s a genius~