““Not that all humans are like that. There are strong ones among them, ones born with a sword in their hands and fire in their hearts, just waiting to take me on. But it’s not these people that I admire the most. Their courage in the face of fear is a gift; they didn’t break their backs in their collision with me. No, it is the weaklings. The ones who quiver and shake in fear of me, desperate to bury their heads in the sand until the storm is over. But instead of hiding, they brandish their tiny, little penknives and charge. Nobody, not even Fear, can take their dreams away from them. It is then that I catch a spark of a person’s worth. For they are not really weaklings at all. They are the bravest of the brave. I””
