Anyone can find the dirt in someone.
Be the one that finds the gold.
Some men see things as they are and say, "Why?" I dream of things that never were and say, "Why not?"
If there is one thing that I've learnt about people, it's this: whenever somebody says "sure I'll take care of it" the chances are that they are not gonna take care of nothing.
My body... is made out of swords.
Iron is my blood and glass is my heart
I have overcome countless battlefields undefeated.
Not once I have retreated, nor once have I been understood.
Always alone on the hill of swords... intoxicated with victory...
Thus, this life has no meaning.
This body... was surely... made out of blades.
It doesn’t work with your own hands, you know. Holding your own hand doesn’t work. It’s only when you hold somebody else’s hand that it makes you feel better. Maybe it’s because then you know you aren’t alone.
— Koharu/Heroine (Norn9: Var Commons)
Demon: Hey, I don't want to listen to a sad song. Make it a happy piece.
Angel: That isn't for me to decide. How you feel about it is up to you. Feel whatever you want.
Demon: "Fur Elise". That Therese was misread as Elise due to Beethoven's bad handwriting is a famous story. A love song Beethoven created for Therese, who was of a different class. That's the popular and long-standing interpretation, but.... Angel, I don't like this song. This song is sad.
Angel: It's not the song that's sad.
Demon: Then what's sad? Is it me?That's right. Actually...
-Only humans are dishonest. All other living creatures are more honest.
-Then, why do you wish to become human, Konaka?
-Because, if I became human, then i can lie!
One day I noticed, I hate this world so damn much. The world was a number of boxes. People twist their bodies and enter their own boxes. They live like that their whole lives. In time, in side the box they forget, they forget the form they once had. They forget what they liked, who they liked. That's why I will leave the box.
I will destroy this stupid world.
They are nearly practising a faith that they decided to believe in of their own free will. Tell me, why do you think people believe in god? Because they want to. It's not easy living in such an ugly corrupt world. There is no certainty and nothing to hope for. People are lost, so they reach out. Don't you get it? God didn't create humans... no, it's humans who created god.
I think that we should dispose of all cell phones. They only cause trouble. Mistery's falling the air because of them. They're such imperfect devices. The cell phone is a stupid device that lets you trick yourself into believing that you're no alone, that you're connected with someone and lets you live your life in that delusion. We have a different, perfect way to communicate in this world. You're better off without phones. Then you will seek the power that we possess. If you don't understand how others are feeling, you'll be doomed to live a life of solitude and likewise, they won't understand you either. Get reborn. In the future, it's impossible to survive without that power. Wanna give it a try? Well, do you? It's the same as the bubbles. Everyone has a world within themselves. Look! You can see a world in the bubbles! But all of these worlds are isolated. They're all lonely. So we can just connect them.
The vast ocean of words. Without a means to cross the ocean, we can only stand and watch, keeping the words we desperately want to express inside. A dictionary is a ship that is able to cross that ocean.
A photo can contain a lot of mysteries. Like turning anything into something special the moment its picture is taken. Or connecting the hearts of the person on the photo and the one taking it. There are also times when photos of cute lights are taken, and you feel excited and experience a fluffly feeling. When you look at them, you feel happy. Those are lovely mysteries.
Everyone wants more power. They gained all that power and it corrupted them. In the end they had no choice but to destroy themselves. They wanted the power to change fate and what I thought I wanted seems to have changed. Now that I've returned I can see how things stay the same and repeat themselves over and over... The world changes it turns... each time the sun touches the moon takes a new shape.... The one thing that does not change is my powerlessness. I can see spirits, I can touch them, I can talk to them thats all... They often just disappear. I never know what happens to them but sometimes they leave behind blood stains that only I can see and the faint smell of fear. No matter how strong I get I can‘t protect them. This realization cuts my heart like cold steel... Things are revolving again, its turning fate is a millstone and we are the grist. There‘s nothing we can do... I wish for strength... if I can not protect them from the wheel then I wish for enough strength to be able to shatter fate. Is that my power to shatter fate or will my power consume me in the end like theirs did?
People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true. That's how they define "reality". But what does it mean to be "correct" or "true"? Merely vague concepts ... their "reality" may all be a mirage. Can we consider them to simply be living in their own world, shaped by their beliefs?
What did Shu give to you? What sort of world di he show to you?
This world's sadness.. and.. it's beauty. Shu suffered, and doubted, and made mistakes, and he was ashamed of his ugliness.. But the reason I love him is.. Shu's human. He's heartbreakingly human. That's why.. eventhough I'm only a vessel.. I still got to.. fall in love.. like a normal.. person..
Ah, Alice, we can‘t go home again. No surprise, really. Only a very few find the way; and most of them don‘t recognize it when thay do. Delusions, too, die hard. Only the savage regard the endurance of pain as the measure of worth. Forgetting pain is convenient. Remembering it, agonizing. But recovering the truth is worth the suffering. And our Wonderland, though damaged, is safe in memory.... for now.
There are many ways to define our fragile existence, many ways to give it meaning but it is our memories that shape its purpose and give it context. The private assortment of images: fears, loves, regrets but we alone choose the importance of each, building our own unique histories one memory at a time, hoping the ones we choose to remember don‘t betray or trap us... for it's the cruel irony of life that we are destined to hold the dark with the light, the good with the evil, success with disappointment… this is what separates us, what makes us human and in the end, we must fight to hold on to.