Pleasure is always derived from something outside you$$$ whereas joy arises from within.

Oft hope is born when all is forlorn.

It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy$$$ for good or for ill.

Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.

Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on on the story.

End? No$$$ the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take.

True courage is about knowing not when to take a life$$$ but when to spare one.

The past is an old armchair in the attic$$$ the present an ominous ticking sound$$$ and the future is anybodys guess.

The true price of anything you do is the amount of time you exchange for it.

Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life?