All The Survivors Of The War Had

Yet, Taught By Time, My Heart Has Learned To Glow For Other's Good, And Melt At Other's Woe.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

I'm Like That Guy Who Single-handedly Built The Rocket And Flew To The Moon. What Was His Name? Apollo Creed?

Everything Is More Beautiful Because We're Doomed. You Will Never Be Lovelier Than You Are Now. We Will Never Be Here Again.

For A Friend With An Understanding Heart Is Worth No Less Than A Brother