The Tiger Is Humbled By Memories Of

Believe It Or Not, Friendships Are Difficult To Write In Fiction. They Can Easily Come Across As Forced, Particularly If They Involve Too Much Explication And Too Many Overt Gestures Of Affection.

For We Are All Bound In Stories, And As The Years Pile Up They Turn To Stone, Layer Upon Layer, Building Our Lives.

Death Cannot Be Struggled Against, Brother. It Ever Arrives, Defiant Of Every Hiding Place, Of Every Frantic Attempt To Escape. Death Is Every Mortal's Shadow, His True Shadow, And Time Is Its Servant, Spinning That Shadow Slowly Round, Until What Stretched Behind One Now Stretches Before Him.

The Art Of Illusion Is Grace Itself.

Oh Yes, I Have Learned Much From Tremorlor, And So Assume A Like Strategy. Silence, A Faint Mocking Smile Suggesting I Know More Than I Do, An Air Of Mystery, Yes, And Fell Knowledge. None Could Guess My Confusion, My Host Of Deluded Illusions And Elusive Delusions!