I remember when Elvis died. I wrote my sentiments with words of a little girl in my dear diary, "Many people wanted to see his body. They literally wanted to dig his bones out just to make sure that he was being buried. And I could not understand why. Why people could not leave him alone and let his soul rest in peace." I couldn't get it. I didn't grasp it at that time. In a head of a little girl it was hard to believe that there were mysteries to be solved. That there ruled a conspiracy theory that people thought it was odd that he was buried and the casket was never opened. They didn't believe he was dead! Oh yes. Elvis Lives! And as the world needs his songs, his words, his thoughts, his love, his light more than ever before.

You might be able to kiss like a rock star, but you__e got to get over this macho trip. You don__ own me.

Let me leave you with this thought, written by my father before he died. If you incorporate it into your system of values, it will serve as a worthy guide to the management of your sexual energy: Strong desire is like a river. As long as it flows within the banks of God__ will__e the current strong or weak__ll is well. But when it overruns those boundaries and seeks its own channels, then disaster lurks in the rampage below.

Most of the dreams that have suffered to death were murdered by their own owners.

He went to hell and back, to shut the door of his past, he would not let that door be opened again by others.

To be unique calls for being unique in such a way that your uniqueness doesn't make others appear inferior, and a uniqueness that doesn't crave for anything apart from your own thing.