Sometimes, before you make any plans or resolutions, before you declare your heroic intent to persevere, you just have to cry.
At night I dream of things I scoff at by day.
They were full of mysteries and secrets, like... like poems turned into landscapes." "'Poems turned into landscapes.'" he murmured with a slight smile. "And what of Vestenveld's gardens? Do you see poems in them?" "Your gardens are like your country'...
