The Most Powerful Weapon Is Hope.

There Is No Truth On This Island Of Yours. Rather, There Are As Many Truths As There Are Stars In The Sky; And Every One Of Them Different.

As For Me, I Had Found Love, And That Was A Gift Worth Suffering For.

I Had Learned How It Felt To Want More Than The Sweet Touch Of Hand To Cheek Or Lips To Palm, More Than A Kiss, More Than An Embrace. I Was Starting To Discover That It Is Not Only The Mind That Understands Love, But Also The Body.

The World Is Simple, I Think, In Its Essence. Life, Death, Love, Hate. Desire, Fulfillment. Magic.

There Was So Much Of Beauty Here: The Neat, Small Tracks Of A Foraging Creature, Stoat Or Marten; The Inticate Tracery Of A Skeleton Leaf, Still Clinging Vainly To Its Parent Tree As, Little By Little, Time Stripped It Of Its Substance, Leaving Only The Delicate Remembrance Of What It Had Been.