Heroes are damned. No mortal conquers Death.

To other women the choice of clothes was a form of ingenious exhibition, a shameless seduction. To me, dresses were like a breastplate that I put on to set off to war against this life.

I succeeded in using my charms like a weapon; I learned to play with other's hearts and to master my own desires.

I notice the silvery hair at his temples with a tinge of sadness. Why do parents grow old? Life is a castle of lies slowly dismantled by the passage of time. I regret not spending more time looking at the people I love.

Tomorrow we will be nothing but earth and dust. Who will remember the love a soldier once knew?

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

I talk to trees and animals. We have interesting conversations about food, weather, and love. They sometimes can predict the future.