I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.

She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means...Her smile is her revenge.

And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.

There is a dark place calling to me, but I will not go just yet. I know I can't return from it.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.

She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.

Fate,' I said, 'Is a theif.