Hail And Farewell, My Brother.

In Paris One Could Have The Eyes Of A Cat (as He Did) And Tell People It Was A Trick Of Fashion.

Of Course He Loves Me. I’m His Sister.” “blood Isn’t Love,” Said Magnus, And His Voice Was Bitter.

Meanwhile, Will Had Begun Cutting His Toast Into Strips And Was Making Rude Pictographs Out Of Them. Oh, That Looks Rather Like A ...- , Jem Began.

I Feel Myself Dissolving, Vanishing Into Nothingness, For If There Is No One In The World Who Cares For You, Do You Really Exist At All?

He Found Himself Wanting To Write Poetry About How Her Blue Eyes Were Like Starlight And Her Hair Like Night, Because "night" And "starlight" Rhymed, But He Had A Feeling The Poem Wouldn't Turn Out That Well.