When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

Man is the bridge of good as much as evil. He hurts and he loves. He divides and he unites. He destroys and he rebuilds. He kills and he saves lives. Yet, he denies or pretends that he does not know the other side of him. He only knows of himself as the protagonist, the righteous, and the honorable one. Others, who do not belong to his fold, are the villains, the devils, and the low-life beings. Ironically, the less he knows of his other self the more he becomes what he derides and denigrates. He is the tragic paradox of what he claims to be despite the evidence of his action that proves otherwise. (Danny Castillones Sillada, Man: The Paragon of All Paradoxes)

Imagination doesn't always make you long for what you cannot have, but rather thrive in what you do not have.

The simple, humble, almighty, supreme virtue of love is the invincible fire of transformation for healing the world.

I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we__e imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.

I am a man that knows of the possibility of failure. I have suffered defeat. I have created miscalculations. I have even abandoned victory, and fallen in shame. I can claim my arrogance. I can claim my ignorance. I can claim my naiveté. However, the creation of those possibilities were simply due to a lack of understanding of who I was. I have conquered my Id. I have conquered my Ego. I have conquered my Spirituality. I am a man that knows of the possibility of failure, but because I have mastered the principles of nothing, possibility, and uncertainty, failure simply tags along with me, unable to grasp my glory.