However Long The Moon Disappears, Someday It

I Think All Of Us Are Intrigued To Imagine What We As Individuals Would Become, If We Were Ever Tested As Hard As That Golden Generation Was.

When I Reached Fort Binjemma, For Example, Where My Grandfather Was Stationed For A While, The Whole Victorian Fort Was Decaying. Barbed Wire Surrounded It, Spray Paint On The Ancient Walls Claimed It As Private Property, And The Moat Where My Grandfather And His Men Had Grown Crops - In Desperation As The Siege's Hunger Bit - Was Completely Overgrown With Bushes And Trees.

We Must See All Scars As Beauty. Okay? This Will Be Our Secret. Because Take It From Me, A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, 'i Survived'.

Sometimes We Don't Notice That Someone Is Being Brave, Because They Are Only Doing Something That Seems Quite Easy For Us.

That Is The Trouble With Happiness-all Of It Is Built On Top Of Something That Men Want.