We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn't have expected.

We are living in enchanted time. With our spirits right.

To sustain your belief through situations that completely undermine it is quite something.

Maybe there are only three kinds of stories: those we live, those we tell, and those that help our souls fly upwards to a greater life.

Without stories we would go mad. Life would lose its moorings or lose its orientations. even in silence we are living our stories

A people are as healthy and confident as the stories they tell themselves. Sick storytellers can make nations sick. Without stories we would go mad. Life would lose it’s moorings or orientation... Stories can conquer fear, you know. They can make the heart larger.

In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.