We speak of stories ending, when in truth it is we who end. The stories go on and on.

Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?

That which yields is not always weak.

The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.

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.

When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me

We are meant to taste of life ... and drink the cup of it to the dregs, bitter and sweet alike.