“No more. A puff of writing long gone. Is this the child pulling on the flying cloth of its mother's last worn dress?”

“Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
and dress them in warm clothes again.”

“Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.”

“The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.”

“The prettiest dresses are worn to be taken off.”

“In these last days, the key to pulling all the religions together is the worship of the satanic mother goddess.”

“Alexander observed that his soldiers were exhausted with their constant campaigns. … The hooves of the horses had been worn thin by steady marching. The arms and armour were wearing out, and the Greek clothing was quite gone. They had to clothe themselves in materials of the barbarians,…”

“A mother knows what her child's gone through, even if she didn't see it herself.”

“Can you weep for Him with intense longing of heart? Men shed a jugful of tears for the sake of their children, for their wives, or for money. But who weeps for God? So long as the child remains engrossed with its toys, the mother looks after her cooking and other household duties. But when the child no longer relishes the toys, it throws them aside and yells for its mother. Then the mother takes the rice-pot down from the hearth, runs in haste, and takes the child in her arms.”

“A death was more than an ending; it was like pulling a thread from a richly patterned cloth.”