Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
— William Wordsworth
We are pieces of ancient Earth, bits of sacred story soaked in intellect and dirt.
— Oak Chezar
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief, and unspeakable love.
You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again.
— Fyodor Dostoevsky
And from then on, I bathed in the Poem of the Sea, star-infused, and opalescent, devouring green azures.
— Arthur Rimbaud