Dear Diary,

More sorrow, yet I see now what my vision's end must have meant. The bleeding hearts were those of my dead cousin Romeo and of Juliet Capulet. The dove's feather, landing on the hearts, drew light to Verona's eyes. No more must our houses fight. Escalus, Capulet, and Montague have all lost kin to petty rivalry.

The dark, ashen world of agony will again see the sun. Though I mourn for my cousin and my dear friend, the tears will dry with the light of peace, as dew will dry with the light of day. Much growth will spring forth from deaths. And though sorrow reigns this day, joy is to come, soon.

Benvolio