A Man Is At His Youngest When

He Sees Himself In His Lover As If In A Mirror, Not Knowing Whom He Sees, And When They Are Together, He Too Is Released From Pain, And When Apart, He Longs As He Himself Is Longed For; For Reflected In His Heart Is Love's Image, Which Is Love's Answer. But He Calls It, And Believes It, Not Love But Friendship.

But Courage Without Conduct Is The Virtue Of A Robber, Or A Tyrant.

Longing Performs All Things

In Hatred As In Love, We Grow Like The Thing We Brood Upon. What We Loathe, We Graft Into Our Very Soul.

True Friends Share Everything, Except The Past Before They Met.