Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?

Love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel. It is inexorable as the tides, and life and death alike follow in its wake.

Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.

I had begun to think my ripening body would wither untasted on the vine.

When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me

The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.

I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer