This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it--always.
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
Every time I see an adult on a bicycle I no longer despair for the future of the human race.
Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.