When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

Imagination doesn't always make you long for what you cannot have, but rather thrive in what you do not have.

I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we__e imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.

I thought she had a good heart, though not much respectability- or maybe it was because of that.

Art is an imagination, crafted over innocent dreams and vibrant integrity.

It is through imagination that we transcend understanding and travel into the world of possibilities.