Sometimes you need to sit in the wrong place to see the right view.
The question should be who do we want to be when we grow up, not what.
Once upon a time humans faced each other and pulled thoughts from minds, advanced rapidly, revolutionised industry and evolved explosively. Then one day they stopped, and stared at a box. They grew fat and awkward in public, stopped expressing emotions and couldn't figure out how to reverse it: they reinvented themselves from Emperors back into prawns, because someone turned the TV on.
I stared up in disbelief at the information my eyes fed my brain, and lost myself to the stars. For the first time in my life I had a greater idea of how infinitesimally small our planet really is and, furthermore, how tiny and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of the vast universe. I took a seat on a rock next to Lily and took in the moment to comprehend the vastness of everything else, and the incredible smallness of I.
Lies are ants, the truth is the sun, and questions are a magnifying glass waiting to be picked up by the curious.
We only borrow the breaths we take in life. Every breath we borrow we give back, including our last. In the end, no matter how we lived, we all die feeling owed.
There really is no time for wallowing in the miseries of life: we don’t have all the time in the world, we have all the world, and not enough time.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but us sheep know, true beauty is not in the eye: it lives in the mind.
The beauty of having nothing to lose, is you learn the beauty of having everything to gain. This is where hope lives. Hope can’t be taken. Hope can’t be lost. Hope can’t be broken. When we are boiled down to what we are as people. We are not love, because we hope to love, we are not money or who we hold, because we hope to have and to hold. We are not religion or God, because we enter into belief in the hope we get something back for ourselves. We are not a soul. We are hope.
If humans did not manufacture some of their own to appear like better people, people would not aspire to be someone else. They would stop dreaming. And if people didn't dream, they would be awake to discover the wonderful misery of being. There are no singular great people. There is only a small percentage of people manufactured to look significant, for the purpose of creating the feeling of mass insignificance.
Winter has arrived in North London. Snow has settled. The white snow looks beautiful and covers everything my eyes can see, yet beneath the incomprehensible beauty, the snow freezes greenery which struggles to breathe. Green leaves freeze from existence as children scream go faster to fathers who push them along in upside down bin lids, as they make the most of their schools being closed.
Some days I am the flower beneath the machine. And the machine rolls slowly on, blocking the sun, without a care for what it tramples beneath.
When human men hold an object that makes a powerful noise, or has moving parts, or spins around fast, or has a button they can push (which either screws or nails something) they become Gods in their own heads.They can do anything: they can eat through walls and bring buildings together to form mighty empires.They can build floating cities and flying tin cans.But they still can't make their own beds.
I wonder if I'm being paranoid. I tell myself I'm not, and then ask myself how I can be so sure? I don't know the answer, so I go back to wondering if I am.
Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day, teach a man to fish and he'll evolve to become so skilled at fishing he destroys the ocean and kills every last fish.
Better to live dreaming, than dream of living.
Nobody has to do anything wrong to end up living a life that feels like it’s not their own, all they have to do is take a step back, and hope for the best.
People that talk about living in the real world don't even enjoy living in the real world.
The word begone is a Russian doll. A small, single word, which contains so many others; and when all the smaller words inside line up, they look like a bridge: Be Beg Ego Go On One.
My eyes open after my mind. All eyes always do.
Love is born from disagreeing over something we believe in. Hate is born from disagreeing over something we fear.
When someone falls asleep on your chest, but the one really falling is you.
Love is a grin, a look in the eye whispering what are we doing, appearing in silly arguments had for the sake of them.
If humans had nothing to fight for, they would fight for nothing.
There’s only one Earth, and it’s tiny, but evil human leaders avoid problems they don’t want to resolve by giving them names which make the problems sound like they’re taking place in a different world: they make people not care about other people dying of starvation by calling the place the dying live “the third world.
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