Death comes suddenly and life is fragile and brief. No one can alter this either by prayers or spells.
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?
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.
How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?