Sometimes it's hard to look at a flower, when your dying inside.

As I have said, you have no reason to trust me, and an excellent reason not to.

You don't need to look at the beauty to feel the love.

And what good is a voice when so few will listen?

We all have a choice—to be monsters or men. It is not a matter of blood, but a condition of the heart.

Life is very tough and fragile at the same time, it never backs down or surrenders, but will break open to reveal its beauty and ugliness. As a evening primrose that blooms in the flooding moonlight, just before being trampled upon underfoot by the four-legged frost of the night.