|"Every man is a blacksmith at the forge of destiny. But what suit of armor will I create? These gnarled hands and arms of sinew are fragile, when baked in the fires of time. Every drop of water is trying to trickle through rock. I am but one of these drops, hoping to have as much impact as I may muster. The fields of gold are mine to reap. It's the bread of life, my friends."||No|
|"Dark, the heavens open, never heeding to the call of the weeping caterpillars. Sacrifices of statuary. The icy green of verdant flowers upon leaves trampled under hooves of the beasts."||The study of the language of mountain dwarves taxes even the heartiest of taxi drivers|
|"The Yin to my Yang."||I hate that guy.|
|The beast displaced are only so because they are thrown from someone's heart.||I love cats.|
|The temptations of crusted glory cannot be ignored. Ginger weeps in a skyline of butter.||Mmm. Pie.|
|Does the nymph not bathe in the salts of the plane of air?||I can track them.|
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