The spirit knows the soul.
And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.
Most fires made by underestimated sparks, the greatness fire inside ourselves is lit by the spark of the change, came across a small corner in our souls where the conscience still whispering.
Do you see
that you can’t hear snowfall?
Do you sense
that you can’t see love?
Do you grasp
that you can’t catch poems?
Smell this glass.
Go on taste this cloud.
These material senses won’t get you far until
the velvet glove caress your soul.
We must never stop dreaming. Dreams provide nourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body.
You can’t love someone you don’t know. You can only love how they make you feel. But it doesn’t mean you can’t instantly recognize someone you’ve known and loved before… someone your soul has known and loved before. And might love again…
In suffering, I got to know my soul.
Jesus said our souls are more valuable than all the rest of the world put together.
My faith gives me the ability to say, whatever is next, I’m ready. If it is Hillary or Trump I am ready because they might sit on the desk but they do not sit on the throne.
Once upon a time there was a king, and the king commissioned his favorite wizard to create a magic mirror. This mirror didn’t show you your reflection. It showed you your soul-it showed you who you really were.
The wizard couldn’t look at it without turning away. The king couldn’t look at it. The courtiers couldn’t look at it. A chestful of treasure was offered to anyone who could look at it for sixty seconds without turning away. And no one could.