It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. ...One could do worse than be a swinger of birch trees. -Robert Frost, "Birches"
Everything that is, or was, began with a dream. -Sharkboy & Lavagirl
consensual reality: everything in this world exists because we believe it exists