All snowmen look to the sky, knowing their death will be delivered by the horizon. Before dawn, their life becomes the darkest. The moment before the sun burns all. The Snowmen go mental. Kill or be killed. I only just… — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
Love is a grin, a look in the eye whispering what are we doing, appearing in silly arguments had for the sake of them. — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
Our problems come not from what we believe, but from how we believe in what we do. — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
“Friday dusk becomes Friday evening. The park is feverish with life. A young Asian man screams into his mobile phone, not stopping to listen:… — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
Winter has arrived in North London. Snow has settled. The white snow looks beautiful and covers everything my eyes can see, yet beneath the incomprehensible beauty, the snow freezes greenery which struggles to breathe. Green leaves freeze from existence as children scream go faster to fathers who push them along in upside down bin lids, as they make the most… — Craig Stone Copy Share
Humans are born free then put into cages, then convinced freedom is what being in a cage is, and what freedom is, is being… — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
When human men hold an object that makes a powerful noise, or has moving parts, or spins around fast, or has a button they can push (which either screws or nails something) they become Gods in their own heads.They can do anything: they can eat through walls and bring buildings together to form mighty empires.They can build floating cities and… — Craig Stone Copy Share
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but us sheep know, true beauty is not in the eye: it lives in… — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
Smile sometimes: it won’t add years to your life, but it will add life to your years. — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
People that talk about living in the real world don't even enjoy living in the real world. — Craig Stone Copy Share Image
“Stale beer sticks to wobbling tables. The cigarette machine flashes in the corner, mocking smokers who never have any change on them. There’s no natural light in this pub, so it’s dark and gloomy. The pain on the face of the staff tells its own story: overworked, underpaid, exploited and treated as expendable. I feel at home with them. They’re… — Craig Stone Copy Share
