There's No Credit In Not Doing What

Love Knows Not Distance; It Hath No Continent; Its Eyes Are For The Stars, Its Feet For The Swords; It Continueth, Though An Army Lay Waste The Pasture; It Comforteth When There Are No Medicines; It Hath The Relish Of Manna; And By It Do Men Live In The Desert.

That Which Is Loved May Pass, But Love Hath No End.

It Is Not The Broken Heart That Kills, But Broken Pride, Monseigneur.

War Is Cruelty, And None Can Make It Gentle.

There Is No Refuge From Memory And Remorse In This World. The Spirits Of Our Foolish Deeds Haunt Us, With Or Without Repentance.