All the suns labor to kindle your flame and a microbe puts it out.
The real "it is well" is something I say from the ground, having fallen.
My final belief is suffering. And I begin to believe that I do not suffer.
One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.
I keep my hands empty for the sake of what I have had in them.
If a fanatic is willing to give his life for a cause, he's probably willing to give yours as well I know what I have given you. I do not know what you have received