Second Sight Is Redundant To Reason Anyway.

It Was Never What I Wanted To Buy That Held My Heart's Hope. It Was What I Wanted To Be.

His Outflung Hands Traced Over The Threads Of His Rug, Passed Loop By Loop Through Some Patient Woman's Hands. Or Maybe She Hadn't Been Patient. Maybe She'd Been Tired, Or Irritated, Or Distracted, Or Hungry, Or Angry. Maybe She Had Been Dying. But Her Hands Had Kept Moving, All The Same.

Well, What Is A Blessing But A Curse From Another Point Of View?

You Should Have Fallen In Love With A Happy Man, If You Wanted Happiness. But No, You Had To Fall For The Breathtaking Beauty Of Pain.

History Does Not So Much Repeat As Echo, I Suppose.