#of

To visualize that which doesn't exist, yet to believe with confidence that it can be realized, is truly something miraculous. ↗

— Richard Sagor

#confidence #dream #dreams #human #human-nature

We belong to the race that knows Joseph ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#dreams

You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#dreams

The dream didn't fade as dreams usually do upon waking. ↗

— Stephen King

#stephen-king #dreams

The largest one laughed. Until Natalya's glass shard plugged his jugular. Regin aimed and pulled the trigger. The gun kicked as bullets sprayed. It was shredding their torsos like cheese, halving their bodies. "Let's do this! Rock out with your cocks out! ↗

— Kresley Cole

#berserker #declan-chase #dreams-of-a-dark-warrior #immortals-after-dark #kresley-cole

I like watching baseball as much as my grandma’s left ear is loud. (She’d probably give her right ear for a left ear that wasn’t soundproof). 
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#baseball-is-boring #ear #grandma #grandmother #loud

Ray. People will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we won't mind if you look around", you'll say, "It's only $20 per person". They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again. Oh...people will come Ray. People will most definitely come. ↗

— James Earl Jones

#field-of-dreams #dreams

I was astonished, bewildered. This was America, a country where, whatever its faults, people could speak, write, assemble, demonstrate without fear. It was in the Constitution, the Bill of Rights. We were a democracy... But I knew it wasn't a dream; there was a painful lump on the side of my head... The state and its police were not neutral referees in a society of contending interests. They were on the side of the rich and powerful. Free speech? Try it and the police will be there with their horses, their clubs, their guns, to stop you. From that moment on, I was no longer a liberal, a believer in the self-correcting character of American democracy. I was a radical, believing that something fundamental was wrong in this country--not just the existence of poverty amidst great wealth, not just the horrible treatment of black people, but something rotten at the root. The situation required not just a new president or new laws, but an uprooting of the old order, the introduction of a new kind of society--cooperative, peaceful, egalitarian. ↗

— Howard Zinn

#authoritarianism #bill-of-rights #constitution #democracy #egalitarianism

YOU. ARE. PERFECT. You are. Im talking to YOU. and dont you dare think otherwise...embrace the entity of yourself...you are a puzzle piece and you are meant to be puzzling. ↗

— Kaiden Blake

#inspiration #inspirational-quotes #life #life-lessons #philosophy

I was ten when I heard the music that ended the first phase of my life and cast me hurtling into a new horizon. Drenched to the skin, I stood on Dunoon’s pier peering seawards through diagonal rain, looking for the ferry that would take me home. There, on the everwet west coast of Scotland, I heard it: like sonic scalpels, the sounds of electric guitars sliced through the dreich weather. My body hairs pricked up, each one a willing receiver for the Thunder-God grooves. To my young ears, the sound of these amplified guitars was angelic (although, with hindsight, I don’t suppose angels play Gibson guitars at ear-bleeding volume). A voice that suggested vocal chords of polished silver soared alongside razor-sharp overdriven riffs. I knew that I was hearing the future. ↗

— Mark Rice

#heavy-metal #mark-rice #metallic-dreams #rite-of-passage #rock-music