Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss

As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands.

It was as if some magnetic repulsion, which before had kept our two carriages from meeting and passing, had now been reversed, and so sucked me inexorably forward, drawing me towards something my heart made clear I feared - or should fear - utterly, in the way some people are fatally attracted towards an abyss while standing on its very edge.

He's really good. He's gotten better each month and he knows we expect a lot from him, and he expects a lot from himself. I don't think anybody could envision him playing this well this early, but now that we see how good he can be, we continue to try and push it.

There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.