There is a place so pure and true beyond your deep and restless thoughts youll find an imaginative longitude for dear shelter completely lost in time... Its made of love of magic dreams where you can be yourself and free... Where roses of white and scarlet bloom...tranquility waves kissing shore... A place youll never want to leave a place for dreamers to believe... So spread the wings and let your soul fly up high and reach your castle in the sky...

She is free in her wildness she is a wanderess a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. Time for her isnt something to fight against. Her life flows clean with passion like fresh water.

The problem with catching dreams is you forget how truly incredible they are when you live with them everyday.

We read the pagan sacred books with profit and delight. With myth and fable we are ever charmed and find a pleasure in the endless repetition of the beautiful poetic and absurd. We find in all these records of the past philosophies and dreams and efforts stained with tears of great and tender souls who tried to pierce the mystery of life and death to answer the eternal questions of the Whence and Whither and vainly sought to make with bits of shattered glass a mirror that would in very truth reflect the face and form of Natures perfect self.These myths were born of hopes and fears and tears and smiles and they were touched and colored by all there is of joy and grief between the rosy dawn of birth and deaths sad night. They clothed even the stars with passion and gave to gods the faults and frailties of the sons of men. In them the winds and waves were music and all the lakes and streams and springsthe mountains woods and perfumed dells were haunted by a thousand fairy forms. They thrilled the veins of Spring with tremulous desire made tawny Summers billowed breast the throne and home of love filled Autumns arms with sun-kissed grapes and gathered sheaves and pictured Winter as a weak old king who felt like Lear upon his withered face Cordelias tears. These myths though false are beautiful and have for many ages and in countless ways enriched the heart and kindled thought. But if the world were taught that all these things are true and all inspired of God and that eternal punishment will be the lot of him who dares deny or doubt the sweetest myth of all the Fable World would lose its beauty and become a scorned and hateful thing to every brave and thoughtful man.

Reading is a beautiful prayer for knowledge.

I had a dream about you you were at your old house walking around. When I asked what you were doing you explained to me that you were planning out your heaven this was the happiest you had ever been and when you passed you where going to come back here. I woke up thinking how beautiful that was and I was filled with hope

I had a dream about you. Too many people died that day for us to talk about love. But through the stench of rotting corpses all I could think about was how beautiful you were and how much I wanted to avoid prison.

It will not always be easy but it will always be beautiful.

I had a dream about you last night. You set a timer on in the bathroom to prove how long it takes me to get ready. So I shaved your legs made up your face and gave you lashes. An hour later you thanked God for not making you a woman.

I had a dream about you. Youd never been in an elevator before and Id never been in love. I said I could help you and you said you could help me. I got excited because you were so beautiful but I was quickly let down when you introduced me to your friend who looked like a horse and sang like Miley Cyrus.