Crying is the refuge of plain women, but the ruin of pretty ones. — Oscar Wilde. Irish writer (1854–1900) Suffering
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not, and a sense of humor was provided to console him for what he is.