Pardon me, dear human self, capable of the most heinous degradation, capable of soaring.
Is beauty enhanced or adulterated by utility?
Great minds may have cold hearts. Form but no color. It is an incompleteness. And so they are afraid of any woman who both thinks and feels deeply.
If you remembered somebody was as real as yourself, how could you kill anybody?
But I marry myself. I take my fate as within.
Is it not the case that many a life journey starts out in the opposite direction to its destiny?