Windows.

“We should breathe, dream and lengthen out the hours by the infinity of sensations. So love everything even if it is not exactly real: water and clouds, night and silence, the vast green sea; the formless and multiform water; the place where you shall never be; the lover whom you shall never know; unnatural flowers, odors which make men drunk; the cats that languish upon pianos and sob like women, with hoarse sweet voices! For I think to myself: What does it matter, what does any reality outside of myself matter, if it has helped me to live, to feel that I am, and what I am?”
— Charles Baudelaire

This is my teenager.

“As a teenager, I didn’t want to be me; I wanted to be many different people. Maybe I realized that they all lived inside me and that if I managed to connect with them, they would become aspects of me.” 
- Marion Cotillard

Simples Sensações.

A natureza sobrepõe-se à felicidade. Porque é a natureza, ela própria, que nos faz feliz. Que nos dá felicidade. É o vento. É a terra. É a água. São as mais pequenas coisas. Simples sensações. Isso dá-nos felicidade de um tal modo que mata. Que dói. Que te enche o coração ao máximo e parece que vai explodir. Que tal sensação única. Acredito que seja a felicidade. É o vento a bater, a velocidade, a paisagem da natureza, o brilho das suas cores, a frescura de tudo... Uma paz tremenda. Logo, a natureza e simples sensações dão-nos felicidade. Enchem-nos o coração de tal forma. E o mal vai embora. É simples. Basta viver. Basta estar vivo.

Sometimes destroyed.

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain

There is no god, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream - a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought - a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities.

 

The Waves, Virginia Woolf.

I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.

Minds.

It’s beautiful when you find someone that is in love with your mind. Someone that wants to undress your conscience and make love to your thoughts. Someone that wants to watch you slowly take down all the walls you’ve built up around your mind and let them inside.