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DreamsOften times it happens that we live our lives in chainsAnd we never even know we have the key.So hold fast to dreams.For if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
In pursuit of kindnessShe was a genius of sadness.A prism which it could be divided into its infinite spectrum.Immersing into, appreciating its subtle nuances.Her life had unlimited potential for happiness.Insofar as it was an empty white room.She awoke each morning with the desire to do right,to be a good and meaningful person.But by each evening, she was alone in her magnitude of grief,alone in aimless guilt, alone in loneliness."I am not sad" she repeats.In hope that she'll convince or fool herself and others.So many gods, so many creeds,so many paths that wind.While just the art of being kind,is all the sad world needs.