Perhaps It Seems Odd That A Casual

If Those Sorts Of Moments Would Be The Only Pleasure Life Offered Me, I'd Be Better Off Shutting Out That One Brilliant Source Of Light To Let My Eyes Begin To Adjust To The Darkness.

Flowers That Grow Where Old Ones Have Withered Serve To Remind Us That Death Will One Day Come To Us All.

The Heart Dies A Slow Death, Shedding Each Hope Like Leaves Until One Day There Are None. No Hopes. Nothing Remains.

This Is Why Dreams Can Be Such Dangerous Things: They Smolder On Like A Fire Does, And Sometimes They Consume Us Completely.

We Must Use Whatever Methods We Can To Understand The Movement Of The Universe Around Us And Time Our Actions So That We Are Not Fighting The Currents, But Moving With Them.