I will laugh at the laughable while I breathe
We are scattered, stunned; the remnant of heart left alive is filled with brotherly hate... Whose fault? Everybody blamed somebody else. Only the dead heroes left stiff and stark on the battlefield escape.
The weight that hangs upon our eyelids - is of lead.
She died praying that she might die.
Brutal men with unlimited power are the same all over the world
I do not write often now - not for want of something to say, but from a loathing of all I see and hear. Why dwell upon it?