Out along the dim six-o’clock street, I saw leafless trees standing, striking the sidewalk there like wooden lightning, concrete split apart where they hit, all in a fenced-in ring. An iron line of pi...
My beautiful proof lies all in ruins.
The Rusty Ruins were the remains of an old city, a hulking reminder of back when there'd been way too many people, and everyone was incredibly stupid. And ugly.
He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. H...
The sight of so many ruins destroys any desire to build shanties; all this ancient dust makes one indifferent to fame.
There’s no such thing as ruining your life. Life’s a pretty resilient thing, it turns out.
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