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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #nation
John Matthews' title, 'Gawain, Knight of the Goddess', was confirmation that I wasn't imagining the many layers of Gawain, the court of King Arthur, and most assuredly Gawain's role as a Protector and Champion of the Mother Goddess ↗
Imagine a world full of Elizabeth Wakefields,' Lila said. 'Could you imagine a duller, more predictable place? I think I’d go crazy. ↗
Sometimes when the sun is shining through the clouds, I like to the park and look up at the sky, after a while I imagine that I am flying, and sometimes when I try hard I am able to fly through some of the hoops in the clouds. When I manage to successfully do this, I like to create a trophy cabinet in my mind, and each time I award my self a small keepsake, a little moment of achievement for my self. ↗
So much of our early gladness vanishes utterly from our memory: we can never recall the joy with which we laid our heads on our mother's bosom or rode on our father's back in childhood. Doubtless that joy is wrought up into our nature, as the sunlight of long-past mornings is wrought up in the soft mellowness of the apricot, but it is gone for ever from our imagination, and we can only BELIEVE in the joy of childhood. ↗
--Your headache-- I am trying to imagine it Your head is in your hands The nurse is pouring pills onto a plate November again Too late Your headache It is a bird Wounded, in leaves Its sweet bird’s nest is full of pain in a distant place November There are daisies In the ruined garden, still blooming strangely And in a manic yellow hat, the old lady And the old man, dead in his bed And their daughter, the saint: Her dark, religious hair gets tangled in the branches She is screaming, grabbing While the nurses play Mozart in another room While the bats fly over the roof Snatch the black notes from the blackness Laughing You cry I am going to die I can see them through this window Their little black capes The touching ugliness of their little faces ↗
According to my present theme the writer of imagination would attain closest to the conditions of music not when his words are dissassociated from natural objects and specified meanings but when they are liberated from the usual quality of that meaning by transportation into another medium, the imagination. ↗
...how impossible it is to really make a choice, when the best choice of all is an option you couldn’t even imagine. ↗
