Without hope, love dies and parts of you wither.
Hatred is a cold fire, and it gives no warmth.
Children make that big a difference to you? He asked. I nodded. Yeah, they do. I never figured you as the maternal type. I'm not, but kids are people, Edward, little people trapped by the choices the adults around them make.
Never criticize, unless you can do a better job.
Is death such a high price to pay, when you will die anyway?
Nothing turns to hate so bitter as what once was love.