There is luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel no one else has a right to blame us. — Oscar Wilde. Irish writer (1854–1900) Miscellaneous
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.
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.