Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

Special Takes Series

You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely

Out of the jaws of death


These words are razors to my wounded heart

What ‘s gone and what ‘s past help should be past grief


Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind

Everyone can master a grief but he that has it


Men of few words are the best men

The course of true love never did run smooth


Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep