What you hope, you will eventually believe. What you believe you will eventually know. What you know, you will eventually create. What you create, you will eventually experience. What you experience, you will eventually express. What you express, you will eventually become. This is the formula for all of life.
Neale Donald Walsch
No one is dead.
We walk on air, Watson.
There is only the moon, embalmed in phosphorus.
Sylvia Plath, from Ariel: The Detective
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.
You are like night, calmed, constellated.
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
Pablo Neruda, “XV,” from Twenty Poems of Love, adapted
Violence does not always take visible form, and not all wounds gush blood.
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 ch. 19, p. 303