But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

When a man dies before his time, how much is truly lost?
More than just a life, certainly. A branch withers and bears no more fruit. Futures are erased. Paths close that can never be re-opened. Would his offspring have been saints? Killers? Both?
When a man dies before his time, the answers go with him.
This begs the question: should not all men be saved?

In the battlefield, there is no place for hope. What lies there is only unspeakable despair and a sin we call victory, built on the pain of the defeated. All those people who met there have wholeheartedly admitted the evil and foolishness of this act called war. As long as people don't repent and don't regard it as the most evil taboo, then hell will endlessly reappear in the world

"Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends."

It is the fate of great men to be forged in fire,
And the priviledge of lesser men to light the flame

He has stolen my honour, and his debts must be paid

Your despair is born out of a hunger for hope