All The Stories Are True

...we Die, We Turn, We Are Reborn As We Deserve To Be Reborn, Based On Our Doings In This World." Will Looked Down At His Bitten Nails. "i Will Probably Be Reborn As A Slug That Someone Salts.

I Have A Feeling You're Right, Sherwin.' 'simon. My Name Is Simon.

He Carried A Pipe In His Left Hand, And As He Examined Will At His Leisure, He Exhaled Sending A Cloud Of Sweet-smelling, Cough-induced Smoke. 'finally Broke Down And Admitted You're In Love With Me, Have You?'he Inquired Of Will. 'i Do Enjoy These Suprise Midnight Declarations.' He Leaned Against The Doorway And Waved A Languid Ringed Hand. "go Along, Have At It.

Wear That Scarf," He Said, Pointing To A Blue Cashmere Scarf Hanging On A Peg. "it Matches Your Eyes." Alec Looked At It. Suddenly He Was Filled With Hate - For The Scarf, For Magnus, And Most Of All For Himself. "don't Tell Me," He Said. "the Scarf's A Hundred Years Old, And It Was Given To You By Queen Victoria Right Before She Died, For Special Services To The Crown Or Something." Magnus Sat Up. "what's Gotten Into You?" Alec Stared At Him. "am I The Newest Thing In This Apartment?" "i Think That Honor Goes To Chairman Meow. He's Only Two." "i Said Newest, Not Youngest," Alec Snapped.

To Lose An Arm Or A Leg Would Be Painful, But To Lose The Central Truth Of Your Life Felt—fatal.