Avarice is a cursed vice: offer a man enough gold, and he will part with his own small hoard of food, however great his hunger.
The world is fleeting; all things pass away; Or is it we that pass and they that stay?
Not every story has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth telling.
The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.
Be grateful. By slaying you now, I spare you an eternity of torment.
Everybody dies. Some just need a little help.