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Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears.
Memory is the mother of all wisdom.
Just as despair can come only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given only by other human beings.
Existence precedes essence.
Cecil B. DeMille
“You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”
Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears.
Memory is the mother of all wisdom.
Just as despair can come only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given only by other human beings.
Existence precedes essence.
Cecil B. DeMille
“You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”