You Lie. Worse, You Lie Poorly.

Some Doors Are Best Left Closed.

Start Trying To Work Out Who Deserves What, And Before Long You'll Spend The Rest Of Your Days Weeping For Each And Every Person In The World.

We Read Fantasy To Find The Colors Again, I Think. To Taste Strong Spices And Hear The Songs The Sirens Sang.

The Pale Pink Light Of Dawn Sparkled On Branch And Leaf And Stone. Every Blade Of Grass Was Carved From Emerald, Every Drip Of Water Turned To Diamond. Flowers And Mushrooms Alike Wore Coats Of Glass. Even The Mud Puddles Had A Bright Brown Sheen. Through The Shimmering Greenery, The Black Tents Of His Brothers Were Encased In A Fine Glaze Of Ice. So There Is Magic Beyond The Wall After All.

Only The Soldier Pines And Sentinels Still Showed Green; The Broadleaf Trees Had Donned Mantles Of Russet And Gold, Or Else Uncloaked Themselves To Scratch Against The Sky With Branches Brown And Bare.