“I live in the imaginary wild and its soft as summer.”

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.

She loves her lonely moments the silence away from the crowds, when its just her daydreaming.

Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.

Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.

Lets breath magic into each other.

In a world of lost souls how could I ever find a home?

Summer left me like an almost lover.

If I make him my home, will I lose the home inside myself?

Every drop of her gin held a lost world of night sky dances.

I feel blurry as a reflection in water.

Kiss the words from my lips like a love poem.

One thing that makes me prefer people over books is shared laughter.

The way she danced through life was poetry.

We fell in love because we were both summer souls.

Summer was soaked with you.

I fell in love with the way you wanted more.

If you got a good imagination, a lot of confidence and you kind of know what you are saying, then you might be able to do it. I know a lot of colorful characters at home that would make great actors.

Faith is spiritualized imagination.

Only the really young are fearless, have the optimism, the romanticism to take unimaginable risks.

I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.

War was then no longer this noble and unified outburst of souls in love with glory that he had imagined from Napoleon’s proclamations.

Imagine your dreams as billions of stars – shining to guide wakefulness.

Autobiography is never entirely true. No one can get the right perspective on himself. Every fact is colored by imagination and dream.

I hope you could see how blind people see the world with their imaginations.