Never mind. There. For good or bad. It's done.

It's not sipping wine. It's a mourning wine. You drain it. Like this.

The cat wrinkled its nose and managed to look unimpressed. "Calling cats," it confided, "tends to be a rather overrated activity. Might as well call a whirlwind.

Rules and responsibilities: these are the ties that bind us. We do what we do, because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves. I will do what I have to do. And I will do what I must.

Here, far from our homes, we will be forgotten by our gods.

Richard opened his hand, and the key stared up at him from his palm. "By my crooked teeth," asked Richard, remembering, "who am I?

There are three things, and three things only, that can lift the pain of mortality and ease the ravages of life. These are wine, women and song.