I'm A Librarian, Not An Oracle.

Simon, Would You Still Care For Me If You Discovered I Was Not Who I Say I Am?" What Do You Mean?" I Mean Would You Still Care For Me, No Matter What You Came To Know?" What A Thing To Ponder. I Don't Know What To Say." The Answer Is No. He Does Not Need To Say It. With A Sigh, Simon Digs At The Fire With The Iron Poker. Bits Of The Charred Log Fall Away, Revealing The Angry Insides. They Flare Orange For A Moment, Then Quiet Down Again. After Three Tries, He Gives Up. I'm Afraid This Fire's Had It." I Can See A Few Embers Remaining. "no, I Think Not. If..." He Sighs, And It Says Everything.

Feast For The Fisherman, The Ultimate Emo Band. Said To Be Sold With A Complimentary Prescription For Antidepressants And A Free Flatiron.

Oh, Hello," Dr. M Says, Shaking Balder's Hand. "wonderful Costume. I'm A Bit Of A Role Player Myself On The Weekends. Tell Me, Where Did You Get The Helmet?" It Was Forged In The North, Blessed By The Hands Of Odin, Given To Me By My Mother, Frigg," Balder Answers. Lovely. I Got Mine On The Internet.

I Do Not Want To Pass The Time. I Want To Grab Hold Of It And Leave My Mark Upon The World.

So Much Of The Literature We Had To Read For High School English Class Was Filled With Victimized, Tragic, Symbolic Women Who Spurred The Plot Forward With Their Inevitable Shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death Timelines.