#dreams

But the walls of my resolve mortared with stubbornness have been breached by circumstances I cannot handle alone. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#need #poetry #strength #yearning #dreams

Lost in my dreams, I somehow cross at the traffic signals, bumping into street lamps or people, yet moving onward, exuding fumes of beer and grime, yet smiling, because my briefcase is full of books and that very night I expect them to tell me things about myself I don't know. ↗

— Bohumil Hrabal

#insp #reading #reading-books #dreams

Books are best preserved in the minds of readers. ↗

— Kat Lowe

#book-preservation #reading #dreams

I seek to be moved, my imagination reborn. Let me feast on poems that feed my hunger. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#growing #imagination #inspiration #life #poetry

To what shall we compare our fragile life? Life is like a speck of dust that alights upon a surface. It remains there, unmoved, until a draft threatens it. When a breeze comes it holds on till the last. Finally, a gust of wind comes and it is blown asunder. That is how fragile life is, like a speck of dust blown to nothingness. ↗

— Paul Worthington

#goodbye #grandma-s-secret #melted-dreams #wicked-turn #dreams

Did not one spend the first half of one's days in dreams of happiness and the second half in regrets and terrors? ↗

— Émile Zola

#pessimism #regrets #zola #dreams

Senses will lie as dreams wake. You are not on solid ground. Don't look down. ↗

— Brian McGreevy

#dreams #ground #lie #look #senses

Regardless of what you want to do or who you are, fear will always see you as wholly unqualified for anything you ever dream or attempt. ↗

— Jon Acuff

#motivational #dreams

It sounds strange, somewhat on the line between irony and absurdity, to think that people would rather label and judge something as significant as each other but completely bypass a peanut. ... World peace is only a dream because people won't allow themselves and others around them to simply be peanuts. We won't allow the color of a man's heart to be the color of his skin, the premise of his beliefs, and his self-worth. We won't allow him to be a peanut, therefore we won't allow ourselves to come to live in harmony. (Diary 18) ↗

— Erin Gruwell

#judging #labeling #world-peace #dreams

He looks different. He is much thinner, and a scar runs from his eyebrow all the way down to his jaw. On his neck, just behind his left ear, a small tattooed number curves around the three-pronged scar that fooled me, for so long, into believing he was cured. His eyes-once a sweet, melted brown, like syrup-have hardened. Now they are stony, impenetrable. Only his hair is the same: that auburn crown, like leaves in autumn. Impossible. I close my eyes and reopen them: the boy from a dream, from a different lifetime. A boy brought back from the dead. Alex. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#dreams