I am ashamed of my century for being so entertaining but I have to smile.

And don't worry about your lineage poetic or natural.

It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so. I admire you, beloved, for the trap you've set. It's like a final chapter no one reads because the plot is over.

I wish I weren’t reeling at all.

There were occasionally rifts in the cloud where the face of a woman appeared, frowning.

If I am ever to find these trees meaningful I must have you by the hand. As it is, they stretch dusty fingers into an obscure sky, and the snow looks up like a face dirtied with tears. Should I cry out and see what happens? There could only be a stranger wandering in this landscape, cold, unfortunate, himself frozen fast in wintry eyes.

and I have mastered the speed and strength which is the armor of the world.