It Philosophy Quotes
That last bit of hope always lingered as a stubborn thread. Every time I would try to cut it I would feel it... a pulse. My pulse. My blood is hope.
I realized the world around me was fragmented and broken... I had to be gentle enough not to scrape against the jagged pieces. I would not be cut today.
She is beyond any mortal structure of words, yet she inspires the effort to try anyway.
That's what really broke me, she was better than any fantasy I could hope to imagine. I've spent my life creating, yet she was pristine the likes of which I could never fashion.
She was exactly right and wrong in the perfect sort of way. This kiss would be the first of many, she was the type of girl I would desperately fight for to stay.
She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts.
You are whole today, looking back at fragments of the past. Such a hollow foundation for such a powerful person.
All my past heartache and pain suddenly made sense. That was who I would not be to the person who deserves the best of me.
It was the end for something. It was the beginning for another. But in reality it just fell in the middle. In that confusing moment of time between my birth and my death.
I always thought time was the most valuable currency, but I realized the people we spent our time on and loved us back, that love held even more meaning to me.
I was burdened with an ever-growing heart on the verge of decay. To save myself, I had to give many pieces of my love away. I hope I can give it all to someone, someday.
It was a slow fall, through warm experiences and good laughs. It didn't even feel like love until I got to the end. Even then, it was not the hard surface of rock, but the scorching embrace of more.
I wanted to know every story behind the scars on her curves. I wanted to decipher the whispers hidden beneath her every breath. I wanted to unravel her with my hands.
They surrounded me, bare me. Their fingers like tentacles and their desires like knives. Their fingers traced my secrets and their desires carved my skin.
Inside, my soul is curled tightly bearing the burden of massive sins from another life. And my eyes look far at the hell around me... a sharp grin tugs at the corner of my lips.
And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.
I wear my past around my shoulders as a fine, but worn, cloak. Don't be fooled by my cloak's appearance, I have a three piece underneath.
I was the wings that kept her aloft, while the churning sea of reality nipped at her feet. I kept her from drowning, but I still felt bad, that her toes had to experience such dreadful cold.
Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.
It was a burden on all her muscles. A hollow deeper than her bones. She braced herself though, she knew why Atlas stood so tall.
I don't know anymore, whether it's a curse or a blessing to see the beauty in the ugly. Growing up simply and getting old complexly. I now see reason behind sin, and love behind pain.
And they danced with laughter and tears. They swung each other round and round, the first and last time in years.
A flower blooms because she dreams and desires to do so. Nothing happens without a dream.
An incomplete fulfillment of a sweet dream can slowly turn it caustic.
Nothing great could ever be achieved, without personal force, determined spirit and self-confidence.
Perhaps he has confused making money with freedom.
There is something immoral about abandoning your common sense in matters of social importance.
The one who merely flees is not yet free. In fleeing he is still conditioned by that from which he flees.
No one can steal your freedom from you. You can only give it away.
Think while walking, walk while thinking, and let writing be but the light pause, as the body on a walk rests in contemplation of wide open spaces.
You lift your head, you’re on your way, but really just to be walking, to be out of doors. That’s it, that’s all, and you’re there. Outdoors is our element: the exact sensation of living there.