Naked stars are stars with most of their gaseous atmospheres stripped away. And you know why they’re revealed like that? Because of close encounters with other stars. I find something very human about that.

On the tidal mud, just before sunset,
dozens of starfishes
were creeping. It was
as though the mud were a sky
and enormous, imperfect stars
moved across it as slowly

To him the stars seemed like so many musical notes affixed to the sky, just waiting for somebody to unfasten them. Someday the sky would be emptied, but by then the earth would be a constellation of musical scores.

Art is everywhere you look for it, hail the twinkling stars for they are God’s careless splatters.

I looked at her and a voice inside me said: We only see starlight because all the stars are bleeding.

We are funny creatures. We don’t see the stars as they are, so why do we love them? They are not small gold objects, but endless fire.

My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.

The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up.

I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars.