You know, I don’t think we’ve actually ever met before, seeing as you’re still breathing.[to John]
Why bother? I’m gonna bring it to us.[Felicity Smoak: Go to hell.]
Trust is an orchid, beautiful but delicate, requiring ideal conditions in order to thrive. Without those conditions, it dies.
Master the paradox of change with inconstancy, and the primordial force of Nature itself will be at your beck and call.
Death is a beautiful thing. We die, we go into the ground, our remains grow into flowers. It’s only in the interval after dying that new things can sprout.
