How did good people, my parents, give birth to a bastard like me? The World is full of mystery.

The things that cage who we are; who we're supposed to be, are the lies we tell ourselves.

No.

I am always there, but never is.

why?no i believes it pronounced "why not?"

The New and The Old. are told about the gold

http://swedishroyalguard.deviantart.com/ http://www.fimfiction.net/user/Yellow%20Star

Hiya, I'm Lucky! Lucky Narcissus Strikes, if we're being formal. Thanks for clicking on my face! Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll get us some tea?

Just some art guy reading and possibly making fanart for stories!

The Surprise is in the Pickle.

I believe in my whole race. Yellow, white, black, red, brown in the honesty, courage, intelligence, durability and goodness of the overwhelming majority of my brothers and sisters everywhere