A single question remained, the age-old cry of anguish: “How could one so beautiful be so base?” — Jack Vance

I have transcended that phase in my intellectual growth where I discover humour in simple freakishness. What exists is real; therefore it is tragic, since wherever lives must die. Only fantasy, the vapours rising from sheer nonsense, can now excite my laughter.

“If ambush I must, then ambush I will,” Aillas muttered to himself. “A fig for chivalry, at least until the war is won.”

Dango, Pume, Thwither: down with Visbhume’s breeches; let him hold his backside at the ready.