It’s true what they say, that words are the true weapons. Those who fight with steel are limited to the strength of their arm, the reach of their blade, and the timing of their strike;...

Never overestimate the strength of the torchbearer’s arm, for even the strongest arms grow weary.

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I’m back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace… The power in your touch, serenity...

Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide. I want you to be free, but it is your sorrow that has made a slave of me… I wish to know how to keep you… You...

Sometimes war takes an arm, or an eye, or it takes two legs from us, but above all the war takes our belief in humanity away from us!

…and what is a good weapon but a good idea made murderous flesh?