There is a level of grief so deep that it stops resembling grief at all. The pain becomes so severe that the body can no longer feel it. The grief cauterizes itself, scars over, prevents inflated feeling. Such numbness is a kind of mercy.

For gold is tried in the fire and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity.

We must give up the vain idea of trying to please everybody. That is impossible, and the attempt is a mere waste of time. We must be content to walk in Christ's steps, and let the world say what it likes.

You don’t question Providence. If you can’t have the reality, a dream is just as good.

So the Dark did a simple thing. They showed the maker of the sword his own uncertainty and fear. Fear of having done the wrong thing--fear that having done this one great thing, he would never again be able to accomplish anything of great worth--fear of age, of insufficiency, of unmet promise. All such great fears, that are the doom of people given the gift of making, and lie always somewhere in their minds.

I made an oath to myself: as long as I live as long as my soul remains in this body I won't deviate from the right way but later I looked to my left and then to my right and I saw our beloved everywhere how could I make a wrong turn?