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It is our suffering that brings us together. It is not love. Love does not obey the mind, and turns to hate when forced. The bond that binds us is beyond choice. We are brothers. We are brothers in what we share. In pain, which each of us must suffer alone, in hunger, in poverty, in hope, we know our brotherhood. We know it, because we have had to learn it. We know that there is no help for us but from one another, that no hand will save us if we do not reach out our hand. And the hand that you reach out is empty, as mine is. You have nothing. You possess nothing. You own nothing. You are free. All you have is what you are, and what you give.

I don't exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.

LerYy schrieb:

Shrodo es ist schon lange nichts mehr witzig wir sind im Krieg.

„Wer eine gute, verständige und schöne Frau sucht, sucht nicht eine, sondern drei.“ (Oscar Wilde)

Heinrich von Kleist schrieb:

[...] [D]u hast an mir getan, [...] was in Kräften [...] eines Menschen stand, um mich zu retten: Die Wahrheit ist, daß mich auf Erden nicht zu helfen war.