All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.

We fight wars. We fight for peace. We fight hunger. We love to fight. We fight and fight and fight, with our guns or mouths or money. And the planet is never one lick better than it was before us.

Everyone struggles, don't feel like your alone. There's always people out there feeling like you but don't give up.

Jessica stopped beside him: ‘What delicious abandon in the sleep of a child.’ He spoke mechanically: ‘If only adults could relax like that.’  ‘Yes.’ ‘When do we lose it?’ He murmured… ‘We do indeed lose something,’ she said.

Written By Frank Herbert

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