“To treat your facts with imagination is one thing, but to imagine your facts is another.”

Still I would want to be someone who’d answer to me:
Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.

you don't know it's right until it's wrong--You don't know it's yours until it's gone --i didn't know that it was home 'til you up and left