Complaints are prayers to the devil.
In their presence, there's no need for continuous conversation, but you find you're quite content in just having them nearby.
A little wine sometimes, that's all. Spirits (are) bad. Alcohol wrong. Herb does grow.
It's the music. Your heart is in your ears.
Every man should have the right to choose their destiny.
You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that's so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end.