Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Better to live dreaming, than dream of living.
My eyes open after my mind. All eyes always do.
If humans had nothing to fight for, they would fight for nothing.
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.
The sharpest tools in the box are not always the best tools for the job.
When someone falls asleep on your chest, but the one really falling is you.
We dream of the world we could have made, and wake up in the world that we did.
Only the dying take pleasure in the details of what the healthy fail to notice.
There is nothing more deceptive, more grandeur, than the delusion of a single man.
Our problems come not from what we believe, but from how we believe in what we do.
Smile sometimes: it won’t add years to your life, but it will add life to your years.
All the best bits of a film happen when I'm looking down at my phone. Life, is similar.
People that talk about living in the real world don't even enjoy living in the real world.
At the end of the world the sunset is like a child smashing a pack of crayons into God’s face.
Lies are ants, the truth is the sun, and questions are a magnifying glass waiting to be picked up by the curious.
Love is born from disagreeing over something we believe in. Hate is born from disagreeing over something we fear.
Love is a pig dressed as a clown sitting in a bath full of beans: pretty much amazing, once you get over the shock.
Love is a grin, a look in the eye whispering what are we doing, appearing in silly arguments had for the sake of them.
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.
A person dies every second, but there’s also a six year old somewhere, every second, trying to move an apple with his mind.
Humans are born free then put into cages, then convinced freedom is what being in a cage is, and what freedom is, is being in a cage.
I want to avoid people, because there’s only one thing worse than being homeless, and that’s people who are not, knowing that you are.
Sleep doesn't come easy when a broken twig conjures images of a hulking mental patient snapping the arms off children, over by the bin.
Anything you want to do is possible; fear is not meant to prevent but to motivate your heart into the life you naturally think is improbable.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
When we’re young nothing offends us, except adults telling us what should. Then when we become adults, nothing offends us, except we are offended on behalf of our young.
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.
Without the sleeping bag I'm just somebody up early in the morning, sitting under a tree. With the sleeping bag I'm nobody up early, sitting under a tree: a slight, but important difference in how I’ll be perceived.
My landlord lives in the flat at the bottom of the stairs. I rent a studio flat from him, and live at the top of the staircase. There are two more flights of stairs and four more flats, but it’s me he is obsessed with.
Ask questions then talk over answers, shout loudly you love everyone, try and hug people, confide in them that you are a sheep, offer them the last grass in your pockets. Then watch with a smile as they pretend you aren't there, and whisper you must be crazy, because you want to make friends.
All snowmen look to the sky, knowing their death will be delivered by the horizon. Before dawn, their life becomes the darkest. The moment before the sun burns all. The Snowmen go mental. Kill or be killed. I only just escaped the violent puddles, the sticks and stones. The broken carrot noses.
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.
Small quarrels and tensions were expected because of our new environment. Every relationship has them. Each quarrel was soon forgotten and floated away on a wave. And then sometimes, on our silly days, the arguments returned on the wave, but the wave returned taller, a Tsunami, and neither of us knew where to run or what to do.
I was staying in a hotel in San Francisco for a couple of nights, before flying back to the UK. My hotel was a desperate grey block made from paper and people’s screams. At night the sound of strangers having icy sex echoed off the building and poured through the broken air conditioning, like tiny daggers I couldn't see, reminding me of just the tip of what I was missing.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.