If all is Consciousness, experience its infinity, create your own journey through it, be amazed.
The prairie skies can always make you see more than what you believe.
Quote Detail
The prairie skies can always make you see more than what you believe.
Quick Answer
What this quote page tells you
This canonical quote page keeps the full saying, the attributed author, any linked work, and the topic tags together so the quote can be cited from one stable URL.
Related Quotes
More quote cards from the same area
We will be able to depart this life with the quiet peace-giving notion, that we were permitted to contribute to the happiness of many who will live after us. In our long lives we endeavored to unfold the collective consciousness. In our lives we have known hell and heaven; the final balance, however, is that we helped pave the way to dynamic harmony in this earthly house. That, I believe, is the meaning of life.
At any given moment, your circumstances can change. You may not be where you want to be right now. You may not even be doing what you prefer to do. But, if you change your way of thinking and realize that you have all the opportunities available to you just like each one of us. You can begin to focus on what you want to achieve and make it happen
Happiness does not come from a job. It comes from knowing what you truly value, and behaving in a way that__ consistent with those beliefs.
There is something way more bigger than just being a writer. Being a writer doesn__ mean you just write about things because you want that. It means that you are capable to feel this world and every emotion deepest than you can, and you__e just sharing that with people all around the world. It means that there is something common between infinity and writing. Writing makes me feel immortal. You just can__ stop, cause there are endless words inside of you_
And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now revealed itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.