The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscape changed from brown to green, the army awakened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise of rumors.
Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.
Every sin is the result of collaboration.
Let me into the darkness again.
Sometimes, the most profound of awakenings come wrapped in the quietest of moments.
Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind.