The most content people are those who expect nothing, who have ceased to dream.

Yet, ironically, it is her very wretchedness that makes me pity her so. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what to do!

It doesn't matter. You are what you are. I am what I am. We are the same-when you take the time to remember me.

We all die. It's just a question of when and how horrible it's going to be.

Truly it it not the tragedies that destroy us, but the memories of them.

It is a paradox. Life is that way. God designed it that way. I believe I met him once. He was full of mischief.

This problem - it is age old. To do what is right and save the day without destroying the very thing the day is lived for.