Hate Is A Dead Thing. Who Of

The Strong Grows In Solitude Where The Weak Withers Away.

You See But Your Shadow When You Turn Your Back To The Sun.

Out Of Suffering Have Emerged The Strongest Souls; The Most Massive Characters Are Seared With Scars.

I Said To Life, I Would Hear Death Speak. And Life Raised Her Voice A Little Higher And Said, You Hear Him Now.

For What Is Evil But Good Tortured By Its Own Hunger And Thirst?