Moments in time when the world is changing bring out the best and the worst in people.
Accept that there are things in this world we can never explain and life will be understandable. That is the irony of life. It is also the beauty of it.
The palest ink will endure beyond the memories of man
Die while I can still remember who I am, who I used to be.
To have memories, happy or sorrowful, is a blessing, for it shows we have lived our lives without reservation.
Memory is like patches of sunlight in an overcast valley, shifting with the movement of the clouds. Now and then the light will fall on a particular point in time, illuminating it for a moment before the wind seals up the gap, and the world is in shadows again.