The inability to open up to hope is what blocks trust, and blocked trust is the reason for blighted dreams.

In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted. Only artistic excellence is incorruptible. Pleasure cannot be bargained down. And sometimes the meal is the only currency that is real.

It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.

Trust within, for without there is often doubt.

Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

We tried to, and you blocked it.