It wasn't the green light.
Splendor, you know, I lie in.
My grail, and I have found it.
Sancho Pansa to follow me on every quest?
It seems unlikely.
Why spite the face by removing the nose?
If thou wish to inflict me with this,
then take my life so that I may feel the full force
of Mephisto's flame.
It is as if I can hear the cries of the Whippoorwhil,
and the rushing waters of the Phlegethon.
Leave her be!
We know nothing greater than each other.
I do not do this callously,
and look away with hypocritical eyes.
Volumes of your tales exist.
I wish to bid everyone both welcome and farewell
to ancient Rome.
The Ides of March approach,
and I must go.
� 1997 [email protected]
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