The CaretakerThe CaretakerThe Library's CaretakerHas no arms.He has but one eyeAnd his eccentric charms.He potters aroundJust the records and him,Steadily slippingInto madness and whim.His eye never sleepsNor does it tire;It continues to fightThe threat of fire.And day after day,And year after year,He always staysSomewhere around here.And the Library sitsAlone in the snow,And the Caretaker's heartBegins to slow.
ValentineValentineNot a red rose or a satin heart.I give you a map.It is a doorway to worlds.It promises new discoveries,Like the depths of the sea.Here.It will help you find your way.Like a beacon.It will fill all your boredoms.Lose yourself.I'm trying to be helpful.Not a cute card or a kissogram.I give you a map.Let its colours and shapes inspire you,Possess you,Imprison you.Take it.It's a compendium of knowledge,A university course,A companion, if you will.Use it.Its message will never degrade.Absolute.
The Lady and the FountainThe Lady and the Fountain There was once in the World a beautiful Garden, filled with all the most divine Plants and Trees, from which therehung much Fruit.And in the Heart of the Garden, there stood a Fountain, from which there flowed the purest Water in all ofCreation, and whose Form was very pleasing on the Eyes of those who beheld it.And in the Garden, there were Pathways, which wound deviously between the Trees, and which led manyPeople to their Death.And along a Pathway, there came a Lady. She was learned and clever, and had evaded the false Pathways, andcame at long last to the Fountain.And the Fountain spoke to the Lady. "Why have you come here and awoken me?"And the Lady replied that she had heard tell of a great Fountain, whose Waters had the Power to recall Peoplefrom Death.And the Fountain spoke again. "But why did you not lose your way on the false Pathways, which have led somany to their Death?"And the Lady replied that she
Control I took the first, uneasy steps to the terminal. Below me, devastation hung in ethereal beauty, and above, the place I had come to call home glowed as a cinder. I felt no indecision. As my burnt, broken body's last energies were exacted from it by that interminable walk, as I gambled all creation on the word of my greatest enemy, I felt only a strange solace. At the end of everything, trust seemed a more noble option than suspicion. I set my hands on the metal, I felt the energy coursing through them. There was no pain. My thoughts were clear and, for the first time in ages, remarkably calm. No more danger, no more worry. Sensing my last chance to do so, I stole a look around. And there they were, standing around me, heedless of strife, or conflict, or their own dire situation. Their proud faces went with me, as I came apart. I was obliterated, the material of my being expulsed in every direction. But I remained. My mind was or