Alphonso Rover

“It's a long time that I've loved you. Never, never go away.”
― Margaret Wise Brown, A Celebration of the Seasons: Goodnight Songs

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” said Ito finally, who had been keeping very quiet
up to this point.
“Indeed. How much will it cost?” asked Brown
“About twenty million Interplanetary Credits,” said Demba. “A modest investment for
a man of your means.”
“Indeed,” said Brown again. That was all the money he had, which started to strike
him as strange, when his thoughts were interrupted.
“We’ll arrange a visit to the mine,” said Ito. “Show you the place itself.”
“Indeed,” said Brown. Or had he said that? The strange waking memory he had fallen
into started to become repetitive. Reality started to flow back in.
Diamonds, thought Brown. All those diamonds in that mine.”
― Max Nowaz, The Arbitrator

“Killing War

I had no desire to alter the viable occupations of humanity, but I was determined to do something about the level of regional bloodshed.
Education was my weapon of choice, based on a simple hypothesis: that the advance troops of physical carnage are the propaganda and lies that justify murder, making the real battleground that of ideas.
I was determined to address a situation where so many people were ready to kill, driven by the conviction that others are either evil incarnate or will murder them first if they don’t kill them first if they don’t …
Entire nations were buried in twisted truths submerged by hate, covered with vengeance. Voices of remorse, forgiveness, justice and reconciliation were drowned out by the din of screams for death or revenge.
The best defense system against the cycle of violence was something that is impervious to any tool of destruction ever spawned. That something is knowledge.”
― Nancy Omeara, The Most Popular President Who Ever Lived [So Far]

“As his rendition quietened, he recalled her words from a time in their earliest meetings. How music gave her life. Gave her reason. Gave her purpose. How in her solitary state, the sounds that she’d summoned, were a company of sanity. A body of a million notes, written and played by her and for her. It was her air. Just as she was his. Her presence, his music.”
― Rohith S. Katbamna, Gulab