Words Aren't Made — They

... We Always Love Best The People Who Need Us.

I'm Just Tired Of Everything…even Of The Echoes. There Is Nothing In My Life But Echoes…echoes Of Lost Hopes And Dreams And Joys. They're Beautiful And Mocking.

It's Not What The World Holds For You. It's What You Bring To It.

I Wonder What It Would Be Like To Live In A World Where It Was Always June.

The Woods Are Never Solitary — They Are Full Of Whispering, Beckoning, Friendly Life. But The Sea Is A Mighty Soul, Forever Moaning Of Some Great, Unshareable Sorrow, Which Shuts It Up Into Itself For All Eternity. We Can Never Pierce Its Infinite Mystery — We May Only Wander, Awed And Spellbound, On The Outer Fringe Of It. The Woods Call To Us With A Hundred Voices, But The Sea Has One Only — A Mighty Voice.