I Cling Like A Miser To The

Life Is A Sum Of All Your Choices". So, What Are You Doing Today?

At That Moment He Knew What His Mother Was Thinking, And That She Loved Him. But He Knew, Too, That To Love Someone Means Relatively Little; Or, Rather, That Love Is Never Strong Enough To Find The Words Befitting It. Thus He And His Mother Would Always Love Each Other Silently. And One Day She--or He--would Die, Without Ever, All Their Lives Long, Having Gone Farther Than This By Way Of Making Their Affection Known.

What Is A Firm Hand To Me, Of What Use To Me Is This Astonishing Power If I Cannot Change The Order Of Things, If I Cannot Make The Sun Set In The East, That Suffering Diminish And That Beings No Longer Die?

He Who Despairs Of The Human Condition Is A Coward, But He Who Has Hope For It Is A Fool.

Where There Is No Hope, It Is Incumbent On Us To Invent It.