All of them are gone except for me.. And for me.. Nothing is gone.

One’s philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes. In the long run, we shape our lives and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And, the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility. —Eleanor Roosevelt

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

The distinguishing mark of man is the hand, the instrument with which he does all his mischief.

Written By George Orwell

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