But who are we, where do we come from
When all those years
Nothing but idle talk is left
And we are nowhere in the world?"
= MEETING =

Ah, then it's a gift.

Literature is the art of discovering something extraordinary about ordinary people, and saying with ordinary words something extraordinary.

You fall into my arms. You are the good gift of destruction's path, When life sickens more than disease. And boldness is the root of beauty. Which draws us together.

They don't ask much of you. They only want you to hate the things you love and to love the things you despise.

Even so, one step from my grave, I believe that cruelty, spite, The powers of darkness will in time, Be crushed by the spirit of light.