Strangers are endearing because you don’t know them yet.
In the essence of truth lies deceit.
Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?
Through a forest of challenges, thought moves and squirms, resisting beguilements; if it endures, it emerges pure.
When I want to be reminded of stupidity, especially my own, I turn on the TV.
Pose your questions to people and you will get countless useless answers.