The dice of love are shouting and madness.

My love for Dan Brown knows no bounds. It literally has no mass.

To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.

What you seek is seeking you.

Half of life is fucking up$$$ the other half is dealing with it.

Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn't calculate his happiness.

Whatever we accomplish is due to the combined effort.

I love the nostalgic myself. I hope we never lose some of the things of the past.

Forever is a long long time and time has a way of changing things.

This isn't right. This isn't even wrong.