When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.

History will be erased in the universal purgatory.

We grow from our dreams.

One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.

Every man needs his Siren to check his courage and strength when he hears her song in his travels through the unknown.

Love is almost never simple.

And this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.