The less people think of you, the more they will reveal to you or in your presence.
How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?
Death comes suddenly and life is fragile and brief. No one can alter this either by prayers or spells.
I am not made for despair
It's like a spell. It's so strong I can't fight it. Is love always like this?
Don't you know the man whose life you spare will always hate you?