I don’t know why; when I look at you, I see myself

We alchemists look for talent that can heat up and change. Lukewarm won't do. Halfhearted holding back, well-enough getting by? Not here.

The hurt you embrace becomes joy.

Why are you so enchanted by this world, when a mine of gold lies within you?

Do not grieve over any joy that has gone forever, for it will return to you in another form, know that for sure.

What strange beings we are! That sitting in hell at the bottom of the dark, we're afraid of our own immortality.

You had better run from me. My words are fire.