TALENT IS CONTAINED IN ENDLESS HARD WORK.

Miscommunication is endless.

"Life is made of different moments, the dark, the bright, the beautiful stunning morning light and what feels an endless night.

"Depression from loneliness there is something lulling and comforting in her in the feeling of romance, in the emptiness of feelings. Reality seems endless.

"The soul seems to consist of billions of stars of dreams and hopes. We are unknown worlds even for ourselves, our mood and sensations are nature. In space, you can live billions of lives and billions of moods as moods of nature. An endless abundance of varieties of images of life experiences, the universe lulls us with dreams and depth of knowledge.

Sometimes I'll lie awake at night and listen to the sound of the clock. The motor ticks on endlessly. What an unsettling sound it is when you've yet to find peace - to find solace. Sometimes no matter how exhausted my body is, no matter how tired my thoughts are, no matter how sore my brain and my heart are...even then I still can't fall asleep. Sometimes I wish for nothing more than to sleep. Please, allow me to slip away into the darkest corners of the world and let me be. Just let me sleep. You can close your eyes to the surroundings, but you can't close your ears off to the sound around it. And sometimes the things you wish the most not to hear - are the loudest. They will not go away in the night and be silenced.

Books are doorways into new worlds cloaked in mystery and full of endless enigmas. @reenadossauthor

The possibilities are endless, but it all starts with the conscious decision to continually learn and grow.

Our families are an endless oasis for support, compassion, forgiveness, and love.

There are personal responsibilities in the form of work and schooling, family needs, and the endless list of chores that ensure a functional household. Progress does not always look pretty.

It is such a blessing that we can find endless support through our friends and family.

My life is a canvas of endless possibilities.

Books are a gateway. A black hole of endless possibilities. A place where soulmates meet and friendships thrive. A place where villains might proposer and heroes could fall. Here, worlds begin and reality fades. Here, lies imagination.

It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale. So many things have been shown so to me on these banks, so much light has illumined me by reflection here where the water comes down, that I can hardly believe that this grace never flags, that the pouring from ever-renewable sources is endless, impartial, and free.

take criticism, smash it into dust, add color & use it to paint breathtaking images of unicorns frolicking thru endless fields of greatness

The soil in which the meditative mind can begin is the soil of everyday life, the strife, the pain, and the fleeting joy. It must begin there, and bring order, and from there move endlessly. But if you are concerned only with making order, then that very order will bring about its own limitation, and the mind will be its prisoner. In all this movement you must somehow begin from the other end, from the other shore, and not always be concerned with this shore or how to cross the river. You must take a plunge into the water, not knowing how to swim. And the beauty of meditation is that you never know where you are, where you are going, what the end is.

Poetry can unleash a terrible fear. I suppose it is the fear of possibilities, too many possibilities, each with its own endless set of variations. It's like looking too closely and too long into a mirror; soon your features distort, then erupt. You look too closely into your poems, or listen too closely to them as they arrive in whispers, and the features inside you - call it heart, call it mind, call it soul - accelerate out of control. They distort and they erupt, and it is one strange pain. You realize, then, that you can't attempt breaking down too many barriers in too short a time, because there are as many horrors waiting to get in at you as there are parts of yourself pushing to break out, and with the same, or more, fevered determination.

Never forget to count your endless blessings before complaining.

Happiness is attained, not through self-interest, but through unconditional fidelity in endless love of eternal light.

"Books! tis a dull and endless strife:

It was only vanity and discouragement that sometimes made me feel alone with my endless love, but now that I was taking one of the risks my heart had urged upon me I could also feel I was not alone. If endless love was a dream, then it was a dream we all shared, even more than we all shared the dream of never dying or of traveling through time, and if anything set me apart it was not my impulses but my stubbornness, my willingness to take the dream past what had been agreed upon as the reasonable limits, to declare that this dream was not a feverish trick of the mind but was an actuality at least as real as that other, thinner, more unhappy illusion we call normal life. After all, the intimations of endless love were the same now as they were thousands of years before, while normal life had changed a thousand times and in a thousand different ways. Which then, was more real?

And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn't enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I've never been able to kill myself.

But what if I did tell people exactly what was going on? What if I valued my own peace of mind more than what other people think of me? Would I end up jobless, friendless, and loveless? Would I vanish entirely?

But as long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.