She was gone and the coldness of it was her final gift.

The cooler days have brought a wistful mood upon him. The smell of coalsmoke in the air at night. Old times, dead years. For him such memories are bitter ones.

Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.

The freedom of birds is an insult to me.

They say death comes like a thief in the night, where is he? I'll hug his neck.

What do you believe? I believe that the last and the first suffer equally. Pari passu. Equally? It is not alone in the dark of death that all souls are one soul. Of what would you repent? Nothing. Nothing? One thing. I spoke with bitterness about my life and I said that I would take my own part against the slander of oblivion and against the monstrous facelessness of it and that I would stand a stone in the very void where all would read my name. Of that vanity I recant all.

What he could bear in the waking world he could not by night and he sat awake for fear the dream would return.