If you think I am wrong, I am wrong for all the right reasons.Dealing with death on a regular basis makes you shallow inside. Your soul sleeps inside your chest, pleading to be woken up. In those dark times in a battle, one bad moment, a step on a mine, a bullet on target, or a lethal explosion, and you are a dismembered lifeless memory. Your dead flesh lays on the hot sand which burns your bare skin if you are unlucky enough not to be numb.

A bomb falls, a child dies, a mother whimpers and all humanity is lost… all humanity is lost.

Absence of hope is war.Absence of justice is life.Absence of death is suffering.and absence of love is darkness.

People gather in giant rooms like this, deliver fancy speeches, but nothing ever changes. They still hate, they still fight. All we do, despite all our efforts, is put a pause to it, to bury all the dead. People are still the same, the rage inside them is still the same. What we do is not a cure, but mere bandages on the corpses, utterly useless.

People don’t change, Emma, especially for their enemies.

Do you ever wonder why we haven’t found God yet?—because, maybe he lives within and we seek him outside.

Just be cool, calm, and collected.