Love was something different. Love was pure delight, a fountain of emotions, sensual delights, and enjoying spending time together.

When people love each other, when they find each other out of thousands and millions of people. It's always destiny.

And the simple people are trash. A herd of sheep that are good for shearing, but sometimes it's more profitable to slaughter them.

An assassin can be found for every president. And for every prophet there are a thousand interpreters to distort the essence of the religion, to replace the bright flame with the heat of the inquisitors' pyres. The time came when every book was cast into the fire, when every symphony was reduced to a popular tune and played in all the drinking dens. A sound philosophical basis could be set in place under any vile nonsense.

Generally speaking, we can and should say everything. We just have to choose the right time, otherwise the truth can be worse than a lie.

Evil has no need to bother with eliminating Good. It's far simpler to let Good fight against itself.

What was my truth worth, if I was prepared to defend the entire world, but not those who were close to me? If I subdued hate, but wouldn't give love a chance?