universe

If I had an .MP3 of your heartbeat_ I might actually get some sleep.

I__ tired of justifying why I love someone. I__ done with the explaining.

It feels like the world is folding up around me, like origami paper, and I__ trapped inside of its breathless center.

But I love you and I want you and I need you. Can__ you see that? This world has nothing to offer me if it doesn__ include you.

When I__ depressed, I read Caeiro _ he__ my fresh air. I become very calm, content, faithful _ yes, I find faith in God, and in the soul__ transcendent living smallness, after reading the poems by that ungodly anti-humanist who goes unsurpassed on earth.

I kept waiting for the part where I__ finally know who I was _ some flashing, neon moment of relief, but it never came.

The Fall will always be yours and mine_

Still there are moments when one feels free from one__ own identification with human limitations and inadequacies. At such moments, one imagines that one stands on some spot of a small planet, gazing in amazement at the cold yet profoundly moving beauty of the eternal, the unfathomable: life and death flow into one, and there is neither evolution nor destiny; only being.

He looked at me, that first day, like he had just found something he__ lost a thousand years ago.

I write letters to you that you__l never see.

Time' is the most threatening four letter word.

Looking down from the heavens, she saw how small, and yet how important each human life is. Drops in the bucket of eternity. She saw her minute place in the organic machine of the Cosmos, witnessed the give and take and the slow, steady swinging of life's pendulum. The world relies on order, pattern, and repetition. The earth spins and swings around the sun with rational, mathematical predictability. But she also saw the chaotic nature of things. No matter what, you can never know with certainty what will happen. Lightening can strike, the ground can open up and swallow you, and the very air you breathe can tear your life away.

Camomille: Fallible men write books. God writes in sunlight and rivers and planets. Isn't the Universe a good book? I trust it above the printed kind.

I believe in black holes. I believe that as the universe empties into nothingness, past and future will smack together in the last swirl around the drain. I believe this is how Thomas Stone materialized in my life. If that's not the explanation, then I must invoke a disinterested God who leaves us to our own devices, neither causing nor preventing tornadoes or pestilence, but a God who will now and then stick his thumb on the spinning wheel so that a father who put a continent between himself and his sons should find himself in the same room as one of them.

We've got exactly what we need to fulfill our destiny! The universe has designed us on purpose to who we are! We are God's MASTERPIECE! We are the most BEAUTIFUL thing in this universe!

In grief more than in joy, man longs to know that the universe turns around him.

Things happen that way if destiny so desires. The whole universe conspires to make it happen.

There was no such thing as destiny, and no such thing as prophecy; there was only matter slamming into other matter like two toy trucks in the hands of a child.