Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black 
And the dark street winds and bends. 
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow 
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, 
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go 
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
~Shel Silverstein

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If you are a dreamer, come in. 
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, 
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . . 
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire, 
For we have some flax golden tales to spin. 
Come in! Come in! 
~Shel Silverstein

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Life is funny isn’t it? 

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out,
just when you finally begin to plan something, 

get excited about something,
and feel like you know what direction you’re heading in, 

the paths change,
the signs change, 

the wind blows the other way, 

north is suddenly south, and
east is west, and you’re lost. 

It is so easy to lose your way, 

to lose direction.
And that’s with following all the signposts.

~Cecelia Ahern


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To sip every flower and change every hour is not realism but romance which must not enchant the court. 
~V. R. Krishna Iyer, J | 1978

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Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry, 
I am not there; I did not die.

—Mary Elizabeth Frye

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Mad Girl's Love Song
By Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

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