Sitting at the tables of caf?s in the cities I visited, I found myself thinking that everything tasted to me of dreams, of emptiness. I sometimes found myself wondering if I was still sitting at the table of out old house, motionless and dazzled by dreams! I cannot promise you that this is not what is happening, that I am not still there now, that all this, including this conversation with you, is false and imaginary. Who are you, by the way? The absurd thing is that you don't know either...

This world is full of wonder, you just have to be willing to seek it out.

I wonder what it would be like to actually know how I feel about something before I've already lost it.

"Some of the greatest ideas comes from our mistakes and failures. Even thou we fail; you might find someone has got an Inspirational or an idea to create or to make something wonderful from what we did or said. Don't just sit and do nothing, always do something

"I think you're wonderful,' James told her. 'Can I ask you one special question?'

"I wonder if the sea

As a child we may have had wonderful thoughts of our dreams. As an adult we are held accountable to achieving those wonderful thoughts of our dreams we had as a child.

If midnight snacks weren't meant to be had, why on Earth is there a lightbulb in the fridge? Ponder me that one.

The less you reveal, more the people can wonder

They keep texting you wyd and wya - instead of how you feeling - what's on your mind - and you wonder why you feel misunderstood

She had one of those goofy smiles that made you wonder if she was too stupid to know that life sucks most of the time.

Embrace the wonder

He can't take his eyes off the stars, but I can't take mine off his face. I can see the stars reflected in his eyes, can see the wonder of it in the way his mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes, his face-they're beautiful.

Channeling a means through which we can comfort a weary mind can do wonders for returning to a more positive state of being.

Can't help but wonder, as I wander, at the dusk of dawn, whether I'll weather, the oncoming storm.

A short stroll through nature does wonders to reveal the beauty of the world around us.

"Just lying with my wondering thoughts and

If I am remembered for anything, I want it to be for this: that throughout my entire life, I was deeply sensitive. Sensitive to feelings, words and surroundings. Sensitive to people, places and things. The smallest of things make me emotional in this world. It could be a memory, a truthful face, or a flash of childhood; it could be the smile of a stranger or the openness of the sky. And throughout my life I saw it as an isolating difference. But in my maturity as a man I've discovered my sensitivity is a liberating gift. Because I feel deeply about things. I feel deeply about people. About doing right. About keeping my word. Seeing others achieve. Seeing loved ones grows. I am sensitive to the feelings of the less fortunate, the few, and those struggling. And whenever I get so angry about the world or how people treat each other, I burn bitterly and fierce. Yet, when that flame extinguishes what is left is what is greatest of me; the slow moving tide of my heart. That tide is kind. It is understanding. It is calm. And it is the central moving force in my soul and the rhythm that I am and that I always return to: my sensitivity. I've always been this way. Since I was a boy. Now I am a man and I don't take anything less than pride in it. Because I have found that the tiniest of moments, memories, smiles, dreams and people can make the most emotional impact on me, and the lives of others. And what this brings me all back to is what I what I understand: I have found that I feel more, I care more, and I want people to be more. And that is why I have decided that I must love more. But if I'm remembered for anything - over my laugh, my love or my wonderous beautiful life, I want it to be for my sensitivity. And that I believe that true greatness in the depths of any man, woman or child, is a place of care, consideration and true sensitivity.

We all have spiritual moments throughout our lives. That first moment you see a sunset, or a flower, maybe a piece of art, and you just say, "wow!" And in that moment of true awe and wonder, that is the moment we're all fully present, fully alert, fully appreciative, and there's a real connection made between the experience and the experiencer. There is no interpreter between them. It is pure presence.

The day I no longer walk through the forest with wonder, is the day I no longer belong to this earth.

For a brief moment, I wonder if I would have listened to him if he hadn't died, Would I have clung to his every word so tightly, if his advice had felt unlimited?

I hunched under that table wondering how I got to this point. Wasn't I supposed to be a writer, rubbing elbows at poetry conferences with Mary Ruefle and Kim Addonizio? Wasn't I supposed to be spending these late spring months at retreats wearing woven island commune hippie clothes designed by women named Star? Having Evan changed all that. This was a direction I never expected. This is supposed to be the meantime-teaching in a public school so that I could make money, get my graduate degrees, and move on to my real calling. The one where I learn, create, and pub- lish. The one where I'm not huddled under standard issue cafeteria tables contemplating the best place to run when gunfire broke out. The one where somebody else is responsible for the welfare of these children surrounding me. The one where I don't give a shit.

No wonder I want to be Robert Mitchum: big, strong, super-cool, with those Freon eyes of his. That's who I was pretending to be a minute ago - Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past. - Ben

I've been strongly influenced, in technique as well as subject matter, by some of the early 20th-century book illustrators - Arthur Rackham and Edmund Dulac in particular, Burne-Jones and other Pre-Raphaelites, and the Arts-&-Crafts movement they engendered. I'm continually inspired by Rembrandt, Breughel (I've wondered whether his brilliant "Tower of Babel" had inspired Tolkien's description of Minas Tyrith), Hieronymous Bosch, Albrecht Durer, and Turner; it's not necessarily that they influence my work in any particular direction, more that their example raises my spirits, re-affirms my belief in the power of images to move and delight us, and shows me how much further I have to go, how much is possible. Having visited Venice and Florence for the first time, I am besotted with the Italian Renaissance artists - Botticelli, Bellini, da Vinci and others. Their work is calm, controlled, and yet each face and landscape contains such passion. In Botticelli's paintings, every pebble and every leaf is rendered with a religious devotion; there is reverence inherent in paying such close attention to every stone, turning painting itself into a form of worship, an act of prayer.