History Is The Propaganda Of The Victors.

The Garden Where You Sit Has Never A Need Of Flowers, For You Are The Blossoms And Only A Fool Or The Blind Would Fail To Know It

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

It Seems That Everyone Has Their Own Inexplicable Fear To Have Nightmares About. We Need Nightmares To Keep Ourselves Entertained, And Fend Off The Contentment That We All Fear And Abhor So Much.

We Should Care For Each Other More Than We Care For Ideas, Or Else We Will End Up Killing Each Other.

God Is An Oppressor, He Is Incapable Of Human Sympathy; Behind A Smiling Face He Hides An Evil Heart.