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Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break. —William Shakespeare
In some worlds, war is the deity, and the worship of it bloody and fierce.
Life and light, she thought, were stubborn things. They must, and they would, bloom and shine against the dark. They would not be snuffed out like a candle, but flame on and on and on.
pieces death takes from you find a way to live without them. You honor their death by living and doing and standing.”