The final flight make your last journey from this strange world soar for the heights where there is no more God has created your wings not to be dormant as long as you are alive you must try more and more to use your wings to show you're alive.

Judge the moth by the beauty of the candle

We are born of love. Love is our mother.

War, like children's fights, are meaningless, pitiless, and contemptible.

Flattery's fire is hidden. Its sweet taste is apparent, but the smoke is bound to come out at last.

When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine.

Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation.