We all have to go through the tumbler a few times before we can emerge as a crystal.

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.

People are like stained - glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose. There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.

Death is but a transition from this life to another existence where there is no more pain and anguish. All the bitterness and disagreements will vanish, and the only thing that lives forever is love.

There is within each one of us a potential for goodness beyond our imagining; for giving which seeks no reward; for listening without judgment; for loving unconditionally.

We think sometimes we're only drawn to the good, but we're actually drawn to the authentic. We like people who are real more than those who hide their true selves under layers of artificial niceties

When life puts you through a tumbler, it's your choice whether you come out polished or crushed.

I've told my children that when I die, to release balloons in the sky to celebrate that I graduated. For me, death is a graduation.

You are not a powerless speck of dust drifting around in the wind...we are, each of us, like beautiful snowflakes-unique, and born for a specific reason and purpose.

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.

Right and wrong isn’t a matter of ethics, rather it’s the geography in which you reside and whose control you’re under. Tallinn Manual 2.0 is based largely on western international humanitarian law.

I cannot live or write without music. It stimulates the normally dormant parts of my brain that come in handy when constructing fiction.

Truly compassionate action arises spontaneously without thought and is carried out in real action with no anticipation of reward and, indeed, no concept of a doer of that action.

How did we go bankrupt? Two ways. Slowly, and then all of a sudden.

In war is it who's right, or who's left?

I'm learning how to have a healthy form of love, how to make it lasting rather than just have it be a flash in the pan.

She has something to say about what life is like-which is all we ask of poetry.

I don't go where I'm tolerated. I go where I'm celebrated.

Human reason borrowed many arts from the instinct of animals.

I certainly do not exist from nine to six, when I am at the office.