For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The storm starts when the drops start dropping. The storm stops when the drops stop dropping.
Make your choice, adventurous Stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too... And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"
I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
What we call the beginning is often the end And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.
Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
Let the rain kiss you Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops Let the rain sing you a lullaby The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk The rain makes running pools in the gutter The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night And I love the rain.