According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to geht its fat lillte body off the ground. The bee, of cause, flies anyway. Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.
You were born with potential. You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness. You were born with wings. You are not meant for crawling, so don’t. You have wings. Learn to use them and fly.
A person who has not been completely alienated, who has remained sensitive and able to feel, who has not lost the sense of dignity, who is not yet 'for sale', who can still suffer over the suffering of others, who has not acquired fully the having mode of existence - briefly, a person who has remained a person and not become a thing - cannot help feeling lonely, powerless, isolated in present-day society.
I shot for the sky. I'm stuck on the ground. So why do I try, I know I'm gonna to fall down. I thought I could fly, so why did I drown? Never know why it's coming down, down, down.
When I look up at that blue sky, it will bring me to wherever you are. As long as I keep flying and never give up. I will definitely see you again. The summer that we spent together will definitly come again.
She told me that life is but a lucid dream. And when you die, you wake up. We are free to do anything in lucid dreams, but why can't I fly? "Because..." she said, "you don't believe in dreams."