Try as you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic of the human heart, love.

There is no real definition for love, its not said in ink or through the voice, it’s said in the heart of every human being.

The victory of humanity over man.

Humanity had conquered the inhuman.

And by what means? In what way? How had it overcome the giant of anger and hatred? What arms had it used? What engine of war? The cradle.

It is by suffering that human beings become angels.

Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.

Sometimes I think the human heart is just a simple shelf. There is only so much you can pile onto it before something falls off an edge and you are left to pick up the pieces.