As long as a thing is unknown, it belongs to us in a way that well-known things do not. For we have the opportunity to fill the empty, unknown spaces for ourselves, and in them there is room for imagination and for hope.

For surely a king is first a man. And so it must follow that a king does as all men do: the best he can.

For in hope's absence, a miracle arrived

Oswald: "All your life" Aurore: "What?" Oswald: "All your life, isn't that what you wanted to know? How long I loved you?" Aurore: "Well, yes, I suppose I did, but that wasn't what I was going to ask just now." Oswald: "I tell you I've loved you since the day you were born, and you tell me you want to know something else. There's no one quite like you, is there, Aurore?

Thinking about dark and troublesome things, wondering when they'll come to pay you a visit, turns out to be the very best way to call them to your side.

Maybe all young men who love us become knights in shining armor when we love them back.

Yet even the brightest of sunrises must come to an end.