Our happiness here is all vain glory,
This false world is but transitory,
The flesh is weak, the Fiend is slee
Timor mortis conturbat me.
--William Dunbar
He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm and the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the Universe. And ...he's wonderful.
I'll admit the two turtle doves are growing on me, but there are ten birds in this house already and we both know geese are feathered bioweapons of mass destruction. — Silvern