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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #inn
It is photography itself that creates the illusion of innocence. Its ironies of frozen narrative lend to its subjects an apparent unawareness that they will change or die. It is the future they are innocent of. Fifty years on we look at them with the godly knowledge of how they turne dout after all - who they married, the date of their death - with no thought for who will one day be holding photographs of us. ↗
Nos-tal-gic,’ Akira said, as though it were a word he had been struggling to find. Then he said a word in Japanese, perhaps the Japanese for ‘nostalgic.’ ‘Nos-tal-gic. It is good to be nos-tal-gic. Very important.’ ‘Really, old fellow?’ ‘Important. Very important. Nostalgic. When we nostalgic, we remember. A world better than this world we discover when we grow. We remember and wish good world come back again. So very important. Just now, I had dream. I was boy. Mother, Father, close to me. in our house.’ He fell silent and continued to gaze across the rubble. ‘Akira,’ I said, sensing that the longer this talk went on, the greater was some danger I did not wish fully to articulate. ‘We should move on. We have much to do. ↗
Qué lindo es sonar despierto, he says. How lovely it is to dream while you are awake. Dream while you are awake, Andre. Anybody can dream while they're asleep, but you need to dream all the time, and say your dreams out loud, and believe in them. In other words, when in the final of a slam, I must dream. I must play to win. ↗
Yet, when a man stands in the midst of his own beautifications, in the midst of his own northern airs of taciturnity and reservation, and not in the vanity and shortcoming of a woman's vestures, nor adornments; he is likely to see gliding past him silent, magical creatures whose happiness and seclusion he yearns for- his own mistakes, his own wounds, his own shortcomings: and that is no meager happiness. Yet, even with this yearning, even with that yearning for truth, for innocence in expression, man almost believes that his greater self lives there amongst the shortcomings, the humiliations, and the injuries: in these quiet regions even the fiercest air, even the howling air, turns into deathly silence, and in the most palest of northern snows, where you will find the white bear, youth itself even turns into a dream of youth. How he moves over these hilltops, like an enormous moth into the sun! But what is the sun for him, when there is no such thing as warmth? ↗
