Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

"That’s simple," says the old man. "They are the prisoners of their personal history. Everyone believes that the main aim in life is to follow a plan. They never ask if that plan is theirs or if it was created by another person. They accumulate experiences, memories, things, other people's ideas, and it is more than they can possibly cope with. And that is why they forget their dreams.
”Paulo_Coelho" The Zahir

Paulo Coelho

“Tears are words that need to be written.”
Paulo Coelho

I didn't want to wake up

“I didn't want to wake up.
I was having a much better time asleep.
And that's really sad.
It was almost like a reverse nightmare,
like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved.
I woke up into a nightmare.”

Mirza Ghalib

Wafa Kaisi Kaha'n Ka Ishq Jab Siir Phodna Thahra
To Phir Ae Sang Dil Tera Hi Sang-e-Aasta'n Kyo'n Ho

Where Do I Go! b Lisa Griffin

Where do I go?
When I'm feeling so lost and I don't want to be found.
When I'm looking and listening for that peace in my heart.
But I know I'll never hear that sound.
Where do I go?
Where do I go when I'm trying to laugh but all I can do I cry?
I'm trying to keep on living because I'm not ready to die.
Where do I go because the sun never seems to shine?
Can you give me my life back it's not yours it's mine?
How do I keep going, how do I fight this fight?
I'm tired of feeling beat down, but I'm trying with all my might!
Where do I go when my head hangs so low?
Please give me an answer because I just don't know!
Where do I go?
Does it take very long?
For me to find that peace and a place where I belong.
I need you to help me, help me to take a stand.
I'm scared to do it by myself, will you please take my hand?
Where do I go? Where do I go? Where do I go?
Do you know?

Even as the fingers of the two hands are equal, so are human beings equal to one another. No one has any right, nor any preference to claim over another. You are brothers.

I died for Beauty — but was scarce

I died for Beauty — but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room —

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?
"For Beauty", I replied —
"And I — for Truth — Themself are One —
We Brethren, are", He said —

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night —
We talked between the Rooms —
Until the Moss had reached our lips —
And covered up — our names —