Even Death, Faced With The Option Of

In A King, Modesty Would Be A Sign Of Weakness.

A Journey Never Ends. Only The Travellers End.

We All Have Our Moments Of Weakness, Just As Well That We Are Still Capable Of Weeping, Tears Are Often Our Salvation, There Are Times When We Would Die If We Did Not Weep - Blindness

Just As The Habit Does Not Make The Monk, The Sceptre Does Not Make The King.

The Novel Is Not So Much A Literary Genre, But A Literary Space, Like A Sea That Is Filled By Many Rivers.