I have a book. It's a special red notebook, in which I write descriptive paragraphs and my deepest thoughts. Sometimes I do quotes. Everything ever done in this book is hand written by me, created by myself alone, written only in pencil. Here are some examples.
"We often mistake invisible for non-existent."
"I know that I should always be myself. But what if I don't know who I am?"
"Why is it that memories of devastation pierce us more deeply than those of elation?"
"Ignorance is the black pit from which stems all cruelty."
"It is both a wonderful and terrible truth that no matter what you do, you will always be yourself."
"Even the dung beetle can be beautiful to the right eyes."
"Inspiration is seeing beauty and turning it into beauty within yourself."
"The bravest person is the one who is afraid and yet decides to face his fears despite this."
"Just when we believe we have seen it all, we realize that we were blind the entire time."
Saturday 19 May 2012
Springtime 2012
Spring, the time when life returns to the land, when the ice melts and flowers bloom, when trees flourish and the butterflies flutter so gracefully past. Everything sings of rebirth, from the twittering of birds to the buzzing of bees. Everywhere you look, there is color. The green of plants and the gold of sun and the lovely azure of the sky. Could nature be any more lovely?
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