When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
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The trouble with him was that he was without imagination.
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You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to fall into it!
Maybe not getting what she wanted gave her everything she wanted after all.
Attend to your own fate.
Imagination doesn't always make you long for what you cannot have, but rather thrive in what you do not have.
I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.