I don’t know that our dreams died. Rather, I think that they were abandoned because that leaves us with the dream that maybe, in some nearly impossible way we can somehow still achieve the dream, for without a dream it us who dies.

Unless dreams are carried from the whimsy of imagination to demands of reality, they will die in the catacombs of ‘what could be.

As utterly irrational as it might seem, the greed within me has the most limited vision I can possibly imagine as it has eyes only for the few things it doesn’t have, and it is completely blind to all the many remarkable things that it does.

I think that the real magic in life is that we possess enough imagination to be able to create a bit of it.

A label locks me into a definition that people use to control me. A vision graces me with an idea that serves to release me.

Of necessity, our imagination must embrace the dark reality of ‘what is’ as a precursor to ‘what could be.’ For then and only then will we see in the darkness of today the certain light of tomorrow.

If my imagination is taking me ‘away’ from something rather than taking me ‘to’ something, it was never imagination in the first place.

Maybe the impossible was not based on how life actually worked, but on how we constricted life through our bluntly stunted vision and all the other abhorrent things that we did to keep it safe.

There’s plenty of things that are wrong in our world, and we can give them free reign to completely define our view of the world. Or we can focus on the fact that what’s wrong with the world are the essential raw materials from which a person of determination crafts everything which is right.