Lisa Mangum

Your future is your own again. And I consider that to be a happy ending to the story.

Be sure of your heart before you speak.

It's time, my childrenWhen the waves rise high When the waters run deepWhen the clock strikes midnightYou'll feel the mark of Zero HourAnd you'll never be the same again

Somehow difficulties are easier to endure when you know your dream is waiting for you at the end.

The river is now. This moment. This breath between us. The space between your heartbeats. The moment before you blink. The instant a thought flashes through your mind. It is everything that is around us. Life. Energy. Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you from then...to now...to tomorrow. Listen: you can hear the music of it. Of the passage of time.

In the darkness of night,Demons strut, taunting, goading.In the light of day,Angels sing glorious songs.In the time in between,We live our lives alone and searching.And sometimes, softly,You understand damnation.All is forgotten, all is lost,All but forgivenessAnd the memory of her kiss.

I believe art prefers rules. For some artists, the worst thing you can do is say 'Do whatever you want.' Such permission can be terrifying. I know it is for me. Often it's better if you impose rules or restrictions on a project. Requirements can force you to be creative in unusual ways.

I couldn't pick just one.The moment I'd touched the sugar packet, a thousand thoughts cascaded through my