#po

You know the irony of life is that you have like this big dream to get where you wanna be. But once you get there you start to dream about where you came from. I guess that's the part of the circle of our lives, like the hands of a clock going round. If only we could wind them back and return to a time where the dream began. It's all too soon that's all we'll be is a dream in someone's mind. ↗

— Insane Clown Posse

#take-me-home #dreams

We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wrong. ↗

— Fernando Pessoa

#duality #life #poetry #thoughts #dreams

Without adversity, there would be no growth, and without growth, there would be no lesson to be learned. ↗

— Michelle Cruz-Rosado

#motivational #opportunity #dreams

There are writers who go their whole lives and never hit that No. 1 spot. ↗

— Brad Thor

#hit #lives #never #spot #their

'Do What You Gotta Do' is a positive, inspirational song that says no matter what it is; whether you're up against challenges or trying to get your dreams and aspirations met, you should do what whatever you have to do shy of killing yourself or someone else. ↗

— Angie Stone

#aspirations #challenges #dreams #else #get

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ↗

— Victor Hugo

#cannot #expresses #impossible #said #silent

Political liberty, the peace of a nation, and science itself are gifts for which Fate demands a heavy tax in blood! ↗

— Honore de Balzac

#demands #fate #gifts #heavy #itself

Power is action; the electoral principle is discussion. No political action is possible when discussion is permanently established. ↗

— Honore de Balzac

#action #discussion #electoral #established #permanently

Small natures require despotism to exercise their sinews, as great souls thirst for equality to give play to their heart. ↗

— Honore de Balzac

#equality #exercise #give #great #great souls

How long your closet held a whiff of you, Long after hangers hung austere and bare. I would walk in and suddenly the true Sharp sweet sweat scent controlled the air And life was in that small still living breath. Where are you? since so much of you is here, Your unique odour quite ignoring death. My hands reach out to touch, to hold what's dear And vital in my longing empty arms. But other clothes fill up the space, your space, And scent on scent send out strange false alarms. Not of your odour there is not a trace. But something unexpected still breaks through The goneness to the presentness of you. ↗

— Madeleine L'Engle

#death