884

The Wheel of Fortuna has completed its ritual. I have lost her. BC Advertisements

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883

From Count Andreas Petofi: Exceeding the Grasp, an autobiographical gift of letters, lore, and lyrics.   Afterword. Using that method, you may, as I, render yourself eternally fireproof.  I had known it for years, but it took that evening in Tate’s studio to give it a bash.  You should expect other, concomitant great things when you […]

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882

For the first time, my heart is leaden with pity for Angelique.  Her escape from Hell was on the contingent that she persuade an human to love her without the aid of supernatural ability.  What was her first approach? A threat. Nothing makes me want to love her more.  If only I could.  I understand […]

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881

Dearest Quentin, We all have a history, love.  You’re the best part of mine. Always, Miss Pansy Faye (ed. note. Found on back of “French” postcard. Image faded and no longer visible.  Sunlight damage?)

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880

Dear Jameson, Beth came to me tonight and forgave me. Forgiveness is the one thing we spend our whole lives seeking.  Why doesn’t it ease the pain? Q.

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879

Dear Gregory, You always dreamed of a stunning monument for your final resting place.  Is there one more splendid than Collinwood? I recall your fondness of quoting from Julius Caesar, 3.2. The evil men that men do lives after them: The good is oft interred with their bones. Regarding the latter, you are an exceptional man. In […]

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878

ARISTEDE: YOU LIVED AS A CRIMINAL AND YOU SHALL DIE AS ONE. — BLACKWOOD

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877

Dear Jameson, If you get the chance to torture a bully, enjoy it for those who can’t.  Aristede is a man with whom you had little contact, but he is an excellent example. Love, Quentin  

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876

From Count Andreas Petofi: Exceeding the Grasp, an autobiographical gift of letters, lore, and lyrics.  Volume XXIII Having been the victim of several attacks by them in my green days as an au pair, I can state with some authority that Aristede stabs like a little girl.  Had I thrown the blade, I would have pierced […]

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875

Dear Jameson, Victory.  Defeat.  Back in my body, but Beth didn’t know it. Widow’s Hill has claimed another. No.  It wasn’t Widow’s Hill.  The blame rests in one word: Collins. Go elsewhere and find happiness, my friend. Love, Quentin  

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