There was something awesome in the thought of the solitary mortal standing by the open window and summoning in from the gloom outside the spirits of the nether world.
The big blank spaces in the map are all being filled in, and there's no room for romance anywhere.
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The big blank spaces in the map are all being filled in, and there's no room for romance anywhere.
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When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony.
The future was with Fate. The present was our own.~ The Poison Belt
Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill.
What happened when we died? How were we to know that death wasn't as profound an adventure as life was?