Then The Warrior Of The Light Thanks

After All, What Is Happiness? Love, They Tell Me. But Love Doesn't Bring And Never Has Brought Happiness. On The Contrary, It's A Constant State Of Anxiety, A Battlefield; It's Sleepless Nights, Asking Ourselves All The Time If We're Doing The Right Thing. Real Love Is Composed Of Ecstasy And Agony.

Only The Possibility Of Carrying Out A Dream Makes Our Life Worth Living.

Emotions Are Wild Horses. It Is Not Explanations That Carry Us Forward, But Our Will To Go On.

She, With Her Affection And Her Gaiety, Had Been Largely Responsible For Him Having Rediscovered The Meaning Of Life, Her Love Had Driven Him To The Far Corners Of The Earth, Because He Needed To Be Rich Enough To Buy Some Land And Live In Peace With Her For The Rest Of Their Days. It Was His Utter Confidence In This Fragile Creature, That Had Made Him Fight With Honor, Because He Knew That After A Battle He Could Forget All The Horrors Of War In Her Arms, And That, Despite All The Women He Had Known, Only There In Her Arms Could He Close His Eyes And Sleep Like A Child.

Life Is Too Short, Or Too Long, For Me To Allow Myself The Luxury Of Living It So Badly.