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In the eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.”

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Beginning Dreamss Eyes Land Morning Positive

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.
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A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn’t play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
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A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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There is no space wider than that of grief.
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The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when.
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Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.
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And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
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The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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Everything is so alive, that I can be alive. Without moving I can see it all. In your life I see everything that lives.
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Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.
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We are dust and to dust return. In the end we’re neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.
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Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
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Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.
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