Stories Only Happen To People Who Can

Knowing Your Own Ignorance Is The First Step To Enlightenment.

The Air Was Heavy With The Smell Of Leather And Dust, Of Old Parchment And Binding Glue. It Smelled Of Secrets.

Each Woman Is Like An Instrument, Waiting To Be Learned, Loved, And Finely Played, To Have At Last Her Own True Music Made.

Do You Just Want To Get By? Or Do You Want To Make Me Proud?

Its Like He Knows He's Better Than You, But Doesn't Look Down On You For It Because He Knows It's Not Your Fault.