He forgets that he was someones dream once himself.

Shes my salvation. I burn shes water I suffocate shes air I can just imagine when I am one with her how light will flood my eyes how the night will part and let me out into the day. When I break her the light she has inside will come out like a seal breaks to reveal the hidden message and shell have to share that light with me. Ill be saved and shell be the one who falls. Ill burn her down Ill kill her and give her life again. Ill be true to her. Ill never leave her never.

Lord I believe help my unbelief... is the most natural and most human and most agonizing prayer in the gospels and I think it is the foundation prayer of faith.

A real love is not having your beloved in bed but in your dreams and thoughts.

Forgetting who you are is so much more complicated than simply forgetting your name. Its also forgetting your dreams. Your aspirations. What makes you happy. What you pray youll never have to live without. Its meeting yourself for the first time and not being sure of your first impression.

Like a gift beautifully wrapped at the foot of your bed each morning today asks that you open it and enjoy everything inside. Exhaust yourself with all it has to offer

Its never too late to get down on your knees and pray.

She sleeps. And now she wakes each day a little less. And each day takes less and less nourishment as if grudging the least moment of wakefulness for from the movement under her eyelids and the somnolent gestures of her hands and feet it seems as if her dreams grow more urgent and intense as if the life she lives in the closed world of dreams is now about to possess her utterly as if her small increasingly reluctant wakenings were an interpretation of some more vital existence so she is loath to spend even those necessary moments of wakefulness with us wakings strange as her sleepings. Her marvellous fate - a sleep more lifelike than the living a dream which consumes the world.

Scream silently in your prayer remember the pain of others.

One loses as one grows older something of the lightness of ones dreams one begins to take life up in both hands and to care more for the fruit than the flower and that is no great loss perhaps.