Greatest sin of all is to live muted, reasonable, untouched by beauty.
I read somewhere that — The earth without art is just “eh.”
I have never comprehended why people fail to recognise their own worthiness of beauty.
It is not expensive. In fact, it cannot be priced.
The smell of possibility in the morning is priceless.
No one can defeat the one who has courage to start new.
A quiet pull toward something more—something aesthetic, alive.
Magic always moves towards souls who are no longer negotiating with fear.
So you step out—past approval, past safety, past who you were told to be.
You begin to outgrow everything you once tolerated.
The silence after you have accepted something you never wanted to… it changes you.
Sharpens you. Refines your taste.
And there is no equation to this. Nothing equates in nature. There is no symmetry in existence.
“Love is never wasted, as its value does not rest in reciprocity.” — C. S. Lewis
You start choosing beauty, not because it’s returned—but because it transforms you.
Why else are we here if not to live with unreasonable passion for things?
To risk being too much. Too intense. Too different.
Love so much, it is never too much.
“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” — Carl Jung
And so you return—not the same, but distilled.
Hug until you smell like your lover.
Until identity becomes essence.
Until art is no longer something you consume—
but something you are.
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