I Like To Visit My Horse, Have

Only In Books Could You Find Pity, Comfort, Happiness And Love.

From The Tower Battlements, Dustfinger Looked Down On A Lake As Black As Night, Where The Reflection Of The Castle Swam In A Sea Of Stars. The Wind Passing Over His Unscarred Face Was Cold From The Snow Of The Surrounding Mountains, And Dustfinger Relished Life As If He Were Tasting It For The First Time. The Longing It Brought, And The Desire. All The Bitterness, All The Sweetness, Even If It Was Only For A While, Never For More Than A While, Everything Gained And Lost, Lost And Found Again.

And I Always Read The English Translation And Always Have Conversations With My Translator, For Example About The Names. I Always Have To Approve It.

I Remember The Feeling. Whenever My Father Got So Absorbed In A Book That We Might Have Been In Visible I Felt Like Taking A Pair Of Scissors And Cutting It Up.

They Wouldn't Tell Scipio How Much Of The Counterfeit Cash Was Left Since, As Riccio Put It, 'you're A Detective Now, After All.