Ka?dy sen, ten czarowny i pi?kny, zbyt d?ugo?niony zamienia si? W koszmar. A z takiego budzimy si? Z krzykiem.
human dream nightmare
I have never been more than a dreamand the dreameris awake
dream
The dream was floating off satisfactorily on an inner sea.
Acho que o Santo Graal é um sonho que os homens têm, um sonho de que é possÃvel tornar o mundo perfeito. Se ele existisse, todos nós terÃamos sabido que o sonho não pode se transformar em realidade.
Terucap rindu sepasang insan. Geliat sang cinta di lubuk hati. Terurai kata nan indah menawan. Gundah pun sirna dibuai si mimpi.
dream poem longing
Sometimes I dream that I'm writing a memoir. A memoir would just be the thing to keep me in the hearts and memories of my adoring public.
memoir dream memories
Via?a?i visele sunt filele uneia?i aceleia?i c?r?i. Lectura ei coerent? înseamn? Via?a real?. Dar de fiecare dat, dup? Ce s-a-ncheiat ora (ziua) destinat? Citirii?i a venit vremea repausului, adesea mai r?sfoim plictisi?i câte-o carte, deschizând-o la o pagin? Sau alta, în dezordine?i incoerent; de multe ori este vorba despre o pagin? Deja citit? Sau una înc? Necunoscut, dar e-ntotdeauna din aceea?i carte. E-adev?rat, o fil? Citit? Separat n-are nici o leg?tur? Cu lectura integral??i consecvent, îns? Astfel ea nu este cu mult mai prejos decât aceasta dac? Ne gândim c, în ansamblul ei,?i o lectur? Consecvent? începe?i se termin? Tot pe nepreg?tite?i, prin urmare, poate fi privit? Doar ca o singur? Pagin? Mai mare.
life dream
For JennAt 12 years old I started bleeding with the moonand beating up boys who dreamed of becoming astronauts.I fought with my knuckles white as stars, and left bruises the shape of Salem. There are things we know by heart, and things we don't. At 13 my friend Jen tried to teach me how to blow rings of smoke.I'd watch the nicotine rising from her lips like halos, but I could never make dying beautiful. The sky didn't fill with colors the night I convinced myselfveins are kite strings you can only cut free.I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.I open my palm and my lifelines look like branches from an Aspen tree, and there are songbirds perched on the tips of my fingers, and I wonder if Beethoven held his breaththe first time his fingers touched the keysthe same way a soldier holds his breaththe first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe. But my lungs rememberthe day my mother took my hand and placed it on her bellyand told me the symphony beneath was my baby sister's heartbeat. And I knew life would tremblelike the first tear on a prison guard's hardened cheek, like a prayer on a dying man's lips, like a vet holding a full bottle of whisky like an empty gun in a war zonejust take me just take meSometimes the scales themselves weigh far too much, the heaviness of forever balancing blue sky with red blood. We were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways, but you still have to call it a birthday. You still have to fall for the prettiest girl on the playground at recessand hope she knows you can hit a baseballfurther than any boy in the whole third gradeand I've been running for homethrough the windpipe of a man who singswhile his hands playing washboard with a spoonon a street corner in New Orleanswhere every boarded up window is still painted with the wordsWe're Coming Backlike a promise to the oceanthat we will always keep moving towards the music, the way Basquait slept in a cardboard box to be closer to the rain. Beauty, catch me on your tongue. Thunder, clap us open. The pupils in our eyes were not born to hide beneath their desks. Tonight lay us down to rest in the Arizona dessert, then wake us washing the feet of pregnant womenwho climbed across the border with their bellies aimed towards the sun.I know a thousand things louder than a soldier's gun.I know the heartbeat of his mother. Don't cover your ears, Love. Don't cover your ears, Life. There is a boy writing poems in Central Parkand as he writes he movesand his bones become the bars of Mandela's jail cell stretching apart, and there are men playing chess in the December coldwho can't tell if the breath rising from the boardis their opponents or their own, and there's a woman on the stairwell of the subwayswearing she can hear Niagara Falls from her rooftop in Brooklyn, and I'm remembering how Niagara Falls is a city overrunwith strip malls and traffic and vendorsand one incredibly brave river that makes it all worth it. Ya'll, I know this world is far from perfect.I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic. But every ocean has a shorelineand every shoreline has a tidethat is constantly returningto wake the songbirds in our hands, to wake the music in our bones, to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that brave riverthat has to run through the center of our heartsto find its way home.
life dream daydream
I know that the problem isn't the dream per se. It was the way I felt afterward, once awake.
Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known
reality dream classics
I am not in my gallery and neither do I hold your sigil. Will you speak to me?
Dear billion dollar eyes they are a paupers dream
dream eyes
I'd like to see North America become a dry, sunny, sandy region inhabited mainly by lizards, buzzards and a modest human population - about 25 million would be plenty - of pastoralists and prospectors (prospecting for truth), gathering once a year in the ruins of ancient, mysterious cities for great ceremonies of music, art, dance, poetry, joy, faith and renewal. That's my dream of the American future. Like most such dreams, it will probably come true. That is why I'm still an optimist.
future dream
Kamu tidak terbatas hidupnya maka harusnya mimpimu juga tidak terbatas.
Saya ingin bermimpi tentang sesuatu yang saya impikan. Itu adalah kamu.
In the strange dreams of man, there are stories that are unknowingly being built by them. Mine are among the billions that remain untold.
wonder philosophical dream magical strange
The world is shaped by two things stories told and the memories they leave behind.
dreams memory stories creation storytelling thought world dream memories story thoughts actions the-world acting speaking story-telling
Remain faithful to the earth, my brothers, with the power of your virtue. Let your gift-giving love and your knowledge serve the meaning of the earth. Thus I beg and beseech you. Do not let them fly away from earthly things and beat with their wings against eternal walls. Alas, there has always been so much virtue that has flown away. Lead back to the earth the virtue that flew away, as I do back to the body, back to life, that it may give the earth a meaning, a human meaning.
man human humanity future real earth heaven dream care virtue hope now
If you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up.
inspire dream
The time is long overdue to encourage more women to dream the possible dream.
inspire dream woman
Don't dream to be something, rather dream to do something great!
life inspire dream
If you have dreams it is your responsibility to make them happen.
success inspire dream
You know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night with a vivid dream? And you know that if you don't have a pencil and pad by the bed, it will be completely gone by the next morning. Sometimes it's important to wake up and stop dreaming. When a really great dream shows up, grab it.
Your success will not be determined by your gender or your ethnicity, but only on the scope of your dreams and your hard work to achieve them.
inspire dream hard-work
Don't look for your dreams to become true; look to become true to your dreams.
Showing 1601 to 1625 of 1628 results
You must log in to post a comment.
There are no comments yet.