"Memory is a strange thing, it doesn't work like I thought it did. We are so used to thinking of it as a camera or a tape recorder, but it's not like that at all. It's more like a painter, who adds and subtracts elements according to his own rules."
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two—is gone.