No Man Is A Man Until He

History Is The Propaganda Of The Victors.

Man Is A Bird Without Wings And A Bird Is A Man Without Sorrow.

Love Is A Temporary Madness. It Erupts Like An Earthquake And Then Subsides.

Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being "in Love" Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.

The Real Index Of Civilization Is When People Are Kinder Than They Need To Be.