The Most Powerful Weapon Is Hope.

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

After A While, Footsteps Sounded On The Flagstones Outside And There Was A Gentle Tap At The Door. Of Course, One Of Them Would Come. So Close Were We, The Seven Of Us, That No Childhood Injury Went Unnoticed, No Slight, Real Or Imagined, Went Unaddressed, No Hurt Was Endured Without Comfort.

Nobody Expects You To Exhibit Godlike Strength, Excepting Maybe Yourself.

Our Strength Comes From That Magic, From The Earth And The Sky, From The Fire And The Water. Fly High, Swim Deep, Give Back To The Earth What She Gives You.

Hope Is Such A Tenuous Quality. To Feel It And Then To Be Denied What One Most Longs For ... Better, Surely, Not To Hope At All, Than To Open The Heart To A Hope That Is Impossible.