We are who we are, be­cause of those we choose to love and be­cause of those who love us.

One cannot always marry the person one loves.

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

History is written by the victors, the strongest, the most determined. Truth is found most often in the silence, in the quiet places.

For when all else is done, on­ly words re­main. Words en­dure.

Do you believe you can change your destiny?' he (Sajhë) said, seeking an answer. Alice found herself nodding. 'Otherwise, what's the point? If we are simply walking a path preordained, then all the experiences that make us who we are - love, grief, joy, learning, changing - would count for nothing.

People have different views of how you deal with different issues in literature, and, frankly, long may it last that there is a range of views.