«Quién me permitiera ser como el viento, que nadie sabe de dónde viene ni hacia dónde va y cambia de dirección sin tener que darle explicaciones a nadie.»

It is well for us that we are born babies in intellect. Could we understand half what mothers say and do to their infants, we should be filled with a conceit of our own importance, which would render us insupportable through life.

Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened.

My progress become my success because failure didn't stop me

Written By David Bobby (George)

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