Vanna Bonta
Novelist, poet and actress.
Those who had entrusted their leaders knew it was for a purpose, and the purpose should be maintained.
I wished to dub as Masters: Love, Truth, Serenity. They'd feed and house and teach me with total sovereignty.
The etymological root of the word, sex, which originated around 1350 from the Middle English, sexus, means to divide.
Some things can never be explained. Like the summer Jim died and they called his name the next year in class and he didn't answer.
It's not surprising that the disconnection from real sex becomes unfulfilling.
The stars are not the limit.
It’s vital as we postulate and work toward exploration and human settlement beyond Earth. I like to think of the possibilities of sustaining humanity’s continuum, with preserved recorded history way beyond the life of our Sun.
As intelligent life that can impact a comet with total precision, send missions to Mars, and create beauty, art, dance, literature, and music, the greatest sex organ is the mind and my guess is there are orgasms awaiting us like none we have known before, provided we get there.
When we love there is no reason why.
There is no hospitality like understanding.
The social value of a poem is proved not by marketing or reviews but by enduring resonance, a process that occurs as a response over time by humanity.
Above all, two qualities stand out about Vanna Bonta as a person, her candor and ingenuousness, and a childlike soul.
Have you, with your work, made anyone glow? Erupted their sorrow? Evicted their woe? Have you been anyone's consolation through a night? Have you evoked unrehearsed emotion? Chiseled a crack in someone's encasement and watched them escape? Followed the muses wherever they led? Kept on creating when left for dead? Do not bother me with punctuation until you have earned your degree.
There is only now. And look! How rich we are in it!
The body knows no pain, not like the soul. At least a nerve has limits, a body part a name. But the soul ... the soul ... There is no bandage -- even crying is in vain.
In Flight (a quantum fiction novel), essentially our protagonist is a writer who is writing a novel and then begins to see things from his novel occurring in the reality around him, and he questions "am I losing my mind?" or "am I somehow influencing reality around me?"
Our heartbeats pounding tomorrow into being...
To paraphrase the great poet Dante, the heavens swirl above us and our eyes are still cast to the ground.