Lord, Ye Gave Me A Rare Woman,

I Work Late At Night. I'm Awake And Nobody Bothers Me. It's Quiet And Things Come And Talk To Me In The Silence.

I Shook So That It Was Some Time Before I Realized That He Was Shaking Too, And For The Same Reason. I Don't Know How Long We Sat There On The Dusty Floor, Crying In Each Others Arms With The Longing Of Twenty Years Spilling Down Our Faces.

I Was Crying And Laughing, Snuffing Tears And Blood, Bumping At Him With My Bound Hands, Trying Awkwardly To Thrust Them At Him So That He Could Cut The Rope. He Quit Grappling, And Clutched Me So Hard Against Him That I Yelped In Pain As My Face Was Pressed Against His Plaid. He Was Saying Something Else, Urgently, But I Couldn’t Manage To Translate It. Energy Pulsed Through Him, Hot And Violent, Like The Current In A Live Wire, And I Vaguely Realized That He Was Still Almost Berserk; He Had No English.

There Are Things That I Canna Tell You, At Least Not Yet. And I'll Ask Nothing Of Ye That Ye Canna Give Me. But What I Would Ask Of Ye---when You Do Tell Me Something, Let It Be The Truth. And I'll Promise Ye The Same. We Have Nothing Now Between Us, Save---respect, Perhaps. And I Think That Respect Has Maybe Room For Secrets, But Not For Lies. Do Ye Agree?

Man's Sense Of Morality Tends To Decrease As His Power Increases