A Woman Who Acts Like A Fool

At That Moment, Beauty Itself Struck Me As A Kind Of Painful Melancholy.

What An Unbearable Sorrow It Would Be, To Realized I'd Never Really Tasted To Things I'd Eaten, Or Seen The Places I'd Been. What Life Would I Have? I Would Be Like The Dancer Who Had Practiced Since Childhood For A Performance She Would Never Give.

If A Few Minutes Of Suffering Could Make Me So Angry, What Would Years Of It Do? Even A Stone Can Be Worn Down With Enough Rain.

The Swan Who Goes On Living In Its Parents' Tree Will Die; This Is Why Those Who Are Beautiful And Talented Bear The Burden Of Finding Their Own Way In The World.

Was Life Nothing More Than A Storm That Constantly Washed Away What Had Been There Only A Moment Before, And Left Behind Something Barren And Unrecognizable?