In El-harím, there lived a man, a man with yellow eyes. To me, he said, "Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies. Do not wrestle with the demons of the dark, Else upon your mind they'll place a mark; Do not listen to the shadows of the deep, Else they haunt you even when you sleep.

The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the living.

You cannot learn what you are made of if you rely on anyone or anything else to help you.

It is an overactive imagination that turns men into cowards, not a surfeit of fear, as many believe

The deeds of the children are a testament to the upbringing they received from their parents.

Books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life.

Life is pain...anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something