How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?
When illusions are shattered by truth, talent is set free.
It's what you do to yourself when you go mad with rage. You have no idea how much you can hurt yourself with your own strength.
I miss the days when I was alone with my characters and no one else knew them except me.
..while I was happy enough to pray to any god, knowing that they were simply different faces created by men, of one indivisible truth.
It's like a spell. It's so strong I can't fight it. Is love always like this?