And the strict lord Death bids them to dance.
I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a bowl brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency.
Love is the blackest of all plagues... if one could die of it, there would be some pleasure in love, but you don't die of it.
Antonius Block: Wait a moment.Death: You all say that. But I grant no reprieves.
