Hate Is The Father Of All Evil.

Love Is A Mystery. We Embrace It Where We Can. Mostly We Do Not Choose Whom We Love. It Just Happens. A Voice Speaks To Us, In Ways The Ears Cannot Hear. We Recognize A Beauty The Eye Does Not See. We Experience A Change In Our Hearts That No Voice Can Describe.

I Think Maybe It Is Better To Believe Than Not To Believe. But I Couldn't Tell You Why.

When Your Life Has Been Spent In One War After Another For Forty-five Years, You Have To Be Pretty Handy To Survive.

The Baresark Loses All Fear; His Method Is All-out Attack, And Invariably He Takes His Opponent With Him Even If He Falls.

How Many Hopes And Dreams Are Trapped Within These Bones? How Many Wonders Lie Never To Be Discovered? This Is What War Is. Desolation, Despair And Loss. There Are No Victors.