Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it.

We wouldn't ask why a rose that grew from the concrete for having damaged petals; in turn, we would all celebrate its tenacity, we would all love its will to reach the sun. Well, we are the roses, this is the concrete and these are my damaged petals. Don't ask me why, thank God, and ask me how.

Sailing heart-ships through broken harbors out on the waves of the night, still the searcher must ride the dark horse racing alone in his fright.

As one's fortunes are reduced, one spirit must expand to fill the void.

When we face with a steady eye the difficulties which lie before us, we may derive new confidence from remembering those we have already overcome.

Should I just stop trying and give up? But then, that's exactly what they're waiting for me to do.