Personally, I do not want to make you a man. Men are so very frail. Men break. Men die. No, I’ve always wished to make a god.

There is no peace for great men

'Personally, I do not want to make you a man. Men are so very frail. Men break. Men die. No, I've always wished to make a god.' He smiles mischievously as he does some sketches on a digital pad. He spins it around and shows me the killer I will become. 'So why not carve you to be the god of war?'

When men make gods, there is no God!

We build up pretty pictures of men, when we want to be in love. We hate to have them ruined.

Only farmers and summer guests walk on the moss. What they don't know - and it cannot be repeated too often - is that moss is terribly frail. Step on it once and it rises the next time it rains. The second time, it doesn't rise back up. And the third time you step on moss, it dies.