Bokelskere.no

Love? . . . Love? . . . Love is not safe, my lady Silk, love is dangerous. It is deceitfully sweet like the wine from a fresh palm tree at dawn. Love is fine for singing about and love songs are good to listen to, sometimes even to dance to. But when we need to count on human strength, and when we have to count pennies for food for our stomachs and clothes for our backs, love is nothing. Ah my lady, the last man any woman should think of marrying is the man she loves.

But the hardest habits to break are our lazy ones.

For in a world where lies are pampered like the only children and nephews of queens and kings, all we can do is to hold on to our own truths.