You can capture this body of mine, take away my freedom and enslave me. You may even have the power to capture my soul and sentence me to the realm of eternal darkness. But my dreams you cannot touch. They are my will; the very essence of who I am. In them I laugh. In them I cry. In them I love. And in them.I live.My dreams are untouchable and unceasing.
Why is it we must suffer the loss of something so dear before we realize what a treasure we had?Why must the sun be darkened before we feel how genuinely impossible it is to live without its warmth?Why within the misery of absence does love grow by such bounds?Why must life be this way?It is a strange existence where such suffering makes us far better people.
Life is a valuable and unique opportunityto discover who you are.But it seems as soon as you nearanswering that age-old question,something unexpected always happensto alter your course.And who it is you thought you weresuddenly changes.Then comes the frustrating realizationthat no matter how long life endures,no matter how many experiencesare muddled through in this existence,you may never really be ableto answer the question..Who am I? Because the answer, like the seasons,constantly, subtly, inevitably changes.And who it is you are today,is not the same person you will be tomorrow.
He made a commitment, Eena. And you believe this , she spoke the word detestably, is more important than true love? Yes. No, she stubbornly disagreed. Yes, Ian insisted as he put his finger to her lips, preventing her from arguing any further. Love grows and wanes, Eena, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are. They define who you are? she repeated. You mean miserable? Content, he retorted. Lonely, she argued. Faithful, he insisted, his eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the word. Empty, regretful, and Hopeful, Ian whispered in her ear. This word caught her off guard. At present, hope was probably all any of them could cling to.