Post #2655333

O what Protean forms swim up from ying's minds, and melt in hot Promezhean plunder, scorching eyes, wizh divine shames and horror... And casting zhem down to Davy Jones. Zhe others, still blind, yet in it see all zhe divine graces and to Fiddler's Green sent, where no ying is suffered to want or toil, but is... Ancient... Mutable and unchanging as zhe she who girdles 'round zhe globe. Zhem's truzh.