The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand, thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Image: nicktheartisticfreak @ DeviantArt
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand, thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Image: nicktheartisticfreak @ DeviantArt
Let some things remain unsaid.
Let some things remain unheard.
If you say eveything that’s in your heart
then what will remain inside?
If you have heard every word of the heart
then what will remain to be heard?
Leave a certain
hidden awkwardness.
Leave an unopened window
on the colourful
unmade world.
Munir Niazi
Image: rce-ordinary @ DeviantArt
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W. B. Yeats
Image: tylercreatesworlds @ DeviantArt
I can never tire of watching this.
Video Credit: Gateway to Astronaut Photography (NASA)
Compilation: Bitmeizer
Music: Freedom Fighters (Two Steps from Hell)
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then – in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life – was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Allan Poe
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Image: Misfire Anon