Ah, impatience. Sweet ambrosia would never taste so good....
The rose, however, lacks indulgence, lacks passion.
A torrent sea would be more soothing,
A dragon more slothful,
A firefly less eager than the sun to shine at night;
How fitting, it would seem, to bask in those oneiric wishes;
How wrong: the truth is severe.
Ah, impatience.
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