Wild horses are awe-inspiring, but the mare makes a profit.

Humble questions become awe-inspiring declarations of our memories

The depth of the steps we leave in life depends not on our weight, but love to other

When a play becomes the work, the Love hide herself in the memoirs of the “good old” times we once had.

Our actions fire up the beacons of the quotes

We should not count the wonders, but recognize them in every our step to ride a dream.