Be true to yourself and dont live your life according to other peoples dreams and wants.

The padres set great store by addressing prayer to personal gods Genuine prayer exists only in religions in which there is a God as a person and a shape and endowed with a will.That was stated by a famous Protestant. The anarch does not want to have anything to do with that conception. As for the One God while he may be able to shape persons he is not a person himself and the he is already a patriarchal prejudice.A neuter One is beyond our grasp while man converses ten with the Many Gods on equal terms whether as their inventor or as their discoverer. In any case it is man who named the gods. This is not to be confused with a high level soliloquy. Divinity must without a doubt be inside us and recognized as being inside us otherwise we would have no concept of gods.

If youre going to be a fucking rock star go be one. People dont want to see the guy next door on stage they want to see a being from another planet. You want to see somebody youd never meet in ordinary life.

The best sleep imaginable is sleeping in your dreams

And in that moment he realised that even though the dreams theyd seen together hoped for and believed in had come true it wasnt enough. It was far from reality which was lonesome and woeful. And conceived that love had no lastingness it was brief and momentary. It wasnt the cherishable sensation spoken of in movies and written in books rather a delusion inclined on ruining the very spirit giving way to mournfulness and disappointment.

I decree and I declare that I am not a raw material but rather a finished product. God knows me and knows the reason for which he created me. I am not here on earth to merely live and depart.

I had a dream about you. I was a shoe salesman and you had no feet. I needed to make a sale or Id be fired and you needed reliable transportation. I suggested you buy shoes from me and for me and in return Id give you a piggyback ride. In the end you bought a new purse and I ended up punching my boss in his face.

My hand-stitched wings itchto take flightto test the winds of changethat inevitably blow at the end of a cycle.

It is beautiful because it could have been. It should have been.

For double are the portals of flickering dreams.One set is made of horn the other of ivory.And as for those that come through the sawn ivoryThey deceive carrying words that will not be fulfilledBut those that pass on outside through the polished hornDo fulfill the truth whenever any mortal sees them.