Men cry because things are not what they ought to be.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune.
From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth.
No ends, simply means.
Lucifer also has died with God, and from his ashes has arisen a spiteful demon who does not even understand the object of his venture.