We all live lives of love and loss.
The best and worst of writing is that it could always be better.
Only one true friend have I, but not of this world is He.
My struggles are my own and my creator is the only other who knows of them.
One shall become, whenever One wills it so.
A good deed does not erase a bad in my mind, yet neither does a bad dead erase a good.
Goodbye my doubts, and good luck in hell.
Hate not, for the day may come when doing so, will make you feel it forever.
I do not play by fortuitous means. I plan and prepare and then play my hand.
To be known for anything, but my mind would be a catastrophic legacy, in my mind.
To know of All must be so wonderful.
To imagine is oh so better than to know, yet too, so very inferior.
If one is born to be great, the only way to know, is by the belief of one’s own greatness.
We built a world so noisy that we’ve begun to miss true magnificence.
We will never stop having things to know.
Wouldn’t it just be a wondrous thing if our universe within another universe…oh, how insignificant we are.
Be, He will, what all need him be.
All we truly have of anything are the memories we make.
No different from others of my age am I for I feel the pressures of the age in which I live: that of attraction, wealth and popularity.
To stay atop of these such feats is one brave and endless yet rewardless task indeed.
