Prune the ill branches so that a tree grows.
Prune the dilapidated buildings so that a city flourishes.

Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity

The voyage of a lifetime starts at the windowsill.

Emotional scars run deeper than the Nile
and often lie lurking behind a smile.

If you fatally kill fate,
your life sentence will be
to steer the reins of choice.

Setting sail using different moral compasses causes a relationship to go in circles.