Tiny Fists Can Hurt Quite A Lot

My Capacity For Invention Is Flash Hot Stark, I Thought. Sucker Sunshade. Disembodied Radar-reconnaissance. Not To Mention Bitter Chocolate Death And Killer Zebras. Pity About The Rest Of Me.

Feeling At Peace, However Fragilely, Made It Easy To Slip Into The Visionary End Of The Dark-sight. The Rose Shadows Said That They Loved The Sun, But That They Also Loved The Dark, Where Their Roots Grew Through The Lightless Mystery Of The Earth. The Roses Said: You Do Not Have To Choose.

What Was She To Say? "the Prodigal Has Returned? The Mutineer Wishes To Be Reinstated? The Subordinate, Having Gone To A Great Deal Of Trouble To Prove Her Commander Wrong, Has Come Back And Promises To Be A Good Little Subordinate Hereafter, Or At Least Until Next Time?

With The Knowledge Of Her Aloneness Came A Rush Of Self-declaration: “i Will Not Be Nothing.”

It Seems To Me Further, That It Is Very Odd That Fate Should Leave So Careful A Trail, And Spend So Little Time Preparing The One That Must Follow It.