Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes, and men grow better as the world grows old.

Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.

Sin penetrates to the heart, darkens and hardens it until it extinguishes the light of belief. Each sin has a path that leads to unbelief. Unless that sin is swiftly obliterated by seeking God's forgiveness, it grows from a worm into a snake that gnaws at the heart.

If I am remembered for anything, I want it to be for this: that throughout my entire life, I was deeply sensitive. Sensitive to feelings, words and surroundings. Sensitive to people, places and things. The smallest of things make me emotional in this world. It could be a memory, a truthful face, or a flash of childhood; it could be the smile of a stranger or the openness of the sky. And throughout my life I saw it as an isolating difference. But in my maturity as a man I've discovered my sensitivity is a liberating gift. Because I feel deeply about things. I feel deeply about people. About doing right. About keeping my word. Seeing others achieve. Seeing loved ones grows. I am sensitive to the feelings of the less fortunate, the few, and those struggling. And whenever I get so angry about the world or how people treat each other, I burn bitterly and fierce. Yet, when that flame extinguishes what is left is what is greatest of me; the slow moving tide of my heart. That tide is kind. It is understanding. It is calm. And it is the central moving force in my soul and the rhythm that I am and that I always return to: my sensitivity. I've always been this way. Since I was a boy. Now I am a man and I don't take anything less than pride in it. Because I have found that the tiniest of moments, memories, smiles, dreams and people can make the most emotional impact on me, and the lives of others. And what this brings me all back to is what I what I understand: I have found that I feel more, I care more, and I want people to be more. And that is why I have decided that I must love more. But if I'm remembered for anything - over my laugh, my love or my wonderous beautiful life, I want it to be for my sensitivity. And that I believe that true greatness in the depths of any man, woman or child, is a place of care, consideration and true sensitivity.

I believe you!' the artiste exclaimed finally and extinguishes his gaze. 'I do! These eyes are not lying! How many times have I told you that your basic error consists in underestimating the significance of the human eye. Understand that the tongue can conceal the truth, but the eyes - never! A sudden question is put to you, you don't even flinch, in one second you get hold of yourself and know what you must say to conceal the truth, and you speak quite convincingly, and not a wrinkle on your face moves, but - alas - the truth which the question stirs up from the bottom of your soul leaps momentarily into your eyes, and it's all over! They see it, and you're caught!

You're both the fire and the water that extinguishes it. You're the narrator, the protagonist, and the sidekick. You're the storyteller and the story told. You are somebody's something, but you are also your you.

Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.