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A shroud lies ahead and behind many truths. Reality is (sometimes) a glass wall no ray of light reaches.
Art is the essence of beauty. The artist, a mute that practiced crying until he managed to shout free of dissonance.
Being calm, no matter how complicated life may be, is a virtue and a wall that cages the monkey, many times hurt, scared, within us, inside.
Every existence is a bending in the space-time of general existence and can sometimes become so dense that it does not resonate with anything from outside.
Feelings are waters flowing in chain from soul to soul – do you know the shape of the Universe? Neither do I, but I imagine this chain of souls drinking from souls and these from others…
Happiness and sadness – veils of conscience between the brims of soul, of soul between the brims of hope of time.
Holding a majority in the decisions that impact people’s lives, life, should mean that you hold a majority in wisdom, reason, soul.
I noticed that understanding truth is a difficult endeavour, many times impossible, and I continued to look for truth.
I sometimes walk outside my soul as if to bring it bread and cherries. I go to look at the world through a blossoming silence, because it is nature, there are souls.
In life, like in chess, or any other game, to win, you have to have a clear image of victory in your head, together with the best strategy for reaching it.
It is hard to understand the life of the poor when you yourself never experienced the poverty that you have to share with your children, their eyes, sickness, dreams.
Life got ahead of me. I thought I would hurry up walking through this desert and I would await its arrival!
Life – a sort of a plate of real-imaginary from which I nibble together with the birds of light and darkness, with the poor and well-to-do of the world at grains of to be once rough (like sharp stones), other times more like the pulp of pomegranates and ripe figs; stairs I have to climb in myself and climb down… to sometimes walk along the roads of infinity, other times, how many, to stop before the first step, waiting for the path home…
Love – a carousel that anyone rides for as long as he can last out of how much he is willing to pay. Life, for most of us, also.
Love – are you still excited by a coat you wear every day? Love is not a coat – I was told in reply…
Nature is the master creator in any field. Nature does not ask us to be brilliant, it is enough to be rational. Nature is not man and it is not men’s.
Nothing exists forever in one shape or another. You say existence – you say transformation, evolution and regress.
People are a chain of souls, sometimes so entangled, that they forget who, where they have to go, to be home.
People are all purpose tokens, but you must remember each adds, subtracts, multiplies, divides, integrates… in its unique way. It is difficult and unfair to use generalized laws.
Reader, if you’d ever want infinity, stay with your eyes open in a fall of snow, of dandelion down, of dream, of sun – there are coming towards you its souls.
Reality is a puzzle revealing itself one portion at a time, always where the deepest shroud falls. Wanting to piece the clues together, you are only losing yourself in the maze.
The intelligence (and humanity) of a person are apparent in the strategies he employs to get what he wants. Wisdom, in winning only that whose keeping would not cause too much headache.
The power of thought able to search the Universe for truth is a fragile equilibrium between secretions of a few vital glands.
The soul sees the body and says: I think I know him from somewhere… The body sees the souls and says: Forgive me!
There comes a time when you declare truce with pains, joys, and expectations alike – a kind of statement that I need to live like trees, like grass, like stones.
There is a time for the maturing of thoughts such as there is a time for the maturing of wheat, of wine, of stars…
They haven’t written the books to teach us all we want to know about our existence and us. And a large number of what is written is largely based on the conventional and the imaginary.
True happiness is everyone’s good, not personal comfort when many, too many live in poverty and despair.
We are destined to be roots, trunks, branches, and wings. When flying is out of reach, we are two hands of dirt closer to infinity.
We are made from clay, water, sun, air, and dream, and we feed on clay, water, air, sun, and dream. We are rains, snows, suns, we are seasons without the right to go back.
We need the nature so we can be, we have plenty to learn from it. In our ignorance we continuously try to annihilate it so we can have more existence…
What is the translation for “I love you because you are” in the Cars language? In the War language for snowdrops?
When nothing is left from love, you pass the back of your hand over your eyes and walk away… There is nothing left from love, there was nothing…
When you cause night, it is understood that you are ready to live in the dark. Do not expect that you be allowed light.
You can love a person for walking the same roads as you every dusk or dawn. You can love a person a lot by teaching him to love people, thus himself. You can love someone like no one has ever loved or will ever love them, but you can’t ask anyone to love you.
You can only touch infinity by achieving a heart of violins. You can not be in an enormous love more than the one that imagines that much horizon.
You cannot cross the borders of the soul without at least once be tempted to look back… There are worlds over there. They are calling you to turn your way… familiar faces, strangers, us who have knocked countless times at its gates and they were opened for us.
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