Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
People are like dirt. They can either nourish you and help you grow as a person or they can stunt your growth and make you wilt and die.
How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state?
 xRawrImmaKannibalx · Sat Jun 20, 2009 @ 06:34pm · 0 Comments |
