make-believe

Saturated Arrogance...she rebuked those about herin darkness did she dwella pathetic historyall mortal man would tell..

This girl had been looking on with her hair hanging over her face, only partly hiding a cruel-looking scar; her eyes shone with hatred. Not necessarily hatred of your father or of puppets or the other children, but a hatred of make-believe, which did not heal, but was only useful to the people who didn't need it.

Saturated Arrogance...imprisoned musescried to be freeshe took away their quillsand saiddo not bother me...

There it is,_ he__ say reverentially. __he box represents the mysterious threshold between reality and make-believe. [..] Because every one of us has our box, a dark chamber stowing the thing that lanced our heart. It contains what you do everything for, strive for, wound everything around you. And if it were opened, would anything be set free? No. For the impenetrable prison with the impossible lock is your own head.

When the white arm rests upon the knee it is a triangle; now it is upright - a column; now a fountain, falling. It makes no sign, it does not beckon, it does not see us. Behind it roars the sea. It is beyond our reach. Yet there I venture. There I go to replenish my emptiness, to stretch my nights and fill them fuller and fuller with dreams. And for a second even now, even here, I reach my object and say, __ander no more. All is trial and make-believe. Here is the end.

What I wanted to express very clearly and intensely was that the reason these people had to invent or imagine heroes and gods is pure fear. Fear of life and fear of death.

Small boys often produce their own plays; but usually the parts are not written out. They hardly need to be, for the main line of each character is always "Stick 'em up!" In these plays the curtain is always rung down on a set of corpses, for small boys are by nature through and uncompromising.

Summerhill children are allowed to go through their gangster period, and consequentially more furniture is destroyed.

It__ not TIME that heals everything, it is SLEEP...Sleeping is the perfect answer to all doubts and troubles.Leaving the world of reality behind and disappearing in to a world of make-believe and imaginations, is a solace you get from nothing else...

Be determined.You can make it in life.You can make all your dreams come true.

Most of our waking life is make believe. If there was a way to record every dream that crosses our minds, the true nature of humans would be laid bare

And then I did the best thing I knew to do with the strange concoction of sadness and hope brewing inside me. I prayed. I prayed for the people whose initials were on those slivers. Not just for those people, but for the cave people before them and the robot people after them. For real orphans. For all the people who have lost shoes in the road. For kids whose parents play war. For Toodie Bleu Skies and Toodi Bleu Nordenhauer, for M. B. McClean and Douglas Nordenhauer. And all the people who need to find the magic in Make Believe. That, I figured, just about covered the whole world.

We all live partially in reality and partially in a world of make-believe.

If reshaping a life style boils down to pretending and dwindling into a world of make-believe, living may turn into a schizophrenic merry-go-round and the real self might be crunched and munched on, piece by piece. (__e did not know that she knew_)

Depths of Friendship...under fathoms deepof dark and bitter coldan eerie oscillationreverberated brash and bold...

I survive on moments of make-believe happiness.

White IrisThe iris danced acrossthe ancient Grecian skiesgliding with her embossedsatiny milken sides ...

Nightmares are seldom a foreshadowing of real events, but always a showing of real fears.