Over hill, over dale, through bush, through brier, over park, over pale, through flood, through fire, I do wander everywhere.
William Shakespeare
"The summer night glowed; in the field fireflies were glinting.
And for those who understood such things, the stars were sending messages:
You will leave the village where you were born and in
another country you will become very rich and poweful,
but always you will mourn something you left behind,
even though you can't say what it was, and eventually
you will return to seek it."
Louise Glück
Cherrioh, Miss Milla
