The writer is someone who plays with the body of his mother.
We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
Reason is the cold sun, it gives light but no warmth.
"I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid."
当我们把上帝放在第一位时,所有其他事情都会归于其适当的位置或从我们的生活中消失。