Erik Pevernagie

When the bonfire of love still smolders in the wake of emotional convulsions, seeds of regret and remorse may endlessly linger about on the path of life. ("Taken for a ride)

Love is like a musical score, sometimes very tuneful, creating a harmony of sounds, sometimes extremely harsh, striking a hell of false notes. (__ove lying fallow _)

When we allow ourselves to show some patience and take time to listen to the others, we may learn a lot about ourselves. Patience does not endure instant gratification, though, and self-knowledge may take a lifetime. (__ am on my own side, but I can listen _ )

Hope may inspire and inveigle us, but we cannot just live on hope. Certainly, love can be hope, but it is merely a contingency, since it might either mend our life or break our heart. ("Waiting for the smoke signals")

When scorching passion only leaves ashes of unfulfilled dreams, hope may entice the sprinkling magic of our imagination into livening up the footlights on a new stage of life. ("Taken for a ride")

Liberty is only possible on the condition of regularity. We cannot be free and play the game of life without abiding to the rules, but the rules have to be adapted constantly in line with our experiences and the events we encounter. ( __f he doesn't play ball _ )

In a lifeworld, where we can be what we are, and not what people expect us to be, we can escape a blank and void existence, which is linked to wrecking ennui. Boredom often slips into revulsion and nausea, for not being able to find an identity and not succeeding in acquiring individuality with the quality of authenticity. ("Like a frozen image")

Some are condemned to remain mere __lock and smart phone watchers_, inasmuch as they are not able to read and interpret the lines of their life or don't even treasure the enchantment of daily captivating moments. If we are not prepared to give some personal time to social time, we walk like blind men through gloomy alleys of our existence. ( " Please. Just a bit of a chat " )

If the context is lost and merely bits and pieces remain from a scattered existence, only the connection of anchor points may reinstate a distorted mental balance in an upset life story. ("Lost the global story." )

People die from lack of shared empathy and affinity. By establishing social connectedness, we give hope a chance and the other can become heaven. ( "Le ciel c'est l'autre" )

Life is an intricate play with actors waiting for an explanation. Each added act confers a new interpretation of the story. ( "Waiting for the pieces to fall into place" )

For the discovery of self we have to overcome the fear of self, so as to find the marrow __ithin_ and disclose our __rue_ self. ("Everybody his story")

Conversation often becomes mere verbal performance and oral horseplay rather than fair-minded communication. (__uicy rumours _)

Some feel lucky, if they haven't got to be happy, as they don__ like their frame of mind to be unravelled and prefer to be left well enough alone. ( "C__st quand le bonheur ?" )

Being happy is harder than being discontent. For happiness we have to roll up our sleeves and knock down houses of cards. Because of this exertion, many prefer to abide by __ake_ happiness.( " Happiness blowing in the wind. " )

We may be happy but just don__ know it yet. Many want to rebuke themselves for not finding the threshold of well being, since they simply haven__ learnt to be nice to themselves and to enjoy the privileged twinklings of life. ("C__st quand le bonheur ?" )

People are not dying of lack of money but of lack of esteem and awareness. ("Kein Schwein ruft mich an")

We are all the construction of a story and it is only at the end that we can assess the value of the plot. ("Everybody his story")