In this world of gossip, a good listener is rarer than a great orator.

Power, wealth and immortality--they don't bring happiness. You will never know what the word means.

True courage, in the face of almost certain death, is the rarest quality on earth.

I wanted you to thank you for being my friend and letting me play a part in your story.

I would look up at the moon and see that it was not the smooth orb we had all believed, but a pitted and scarred world with no air.

I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.