For the novelist or poet, for the scientist or artist, the question is not where do ideas come from, the question is how they come. The how is the mystery. The how is fragile.

Sergeant Bobby Shaftoe, USMC, pours some beans into the grinder and starts to belabor the crank. A black flurry begins to accumulate in the coffeepot below. He has learned to make this stuff the Swedish way, using an egg to settle the grounds.

Your love is like
The tree that
Grows every time
When I see you

Não há verdade, a não ser a verdade que existe dentro de ti. Tudo o resto é apenas aquilo que te dizem.

Written By Neale Donald Walsch

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