Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.
I can see patterns in events, and behaviors; in mathematics, I follow slower
But slight mistakes accumulate, and grow to gross errors if unchecked.
The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.
What is fear but courage's shadow?
It is a fine line, in all of us, between civilization and savagery. To any who think they would never cross it, I can only say, if you have never known what it is to be utterly betrayed and abandoned, you cannot know how close it is.