Arpeggio of our years. No more shall pleasant

Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the scratched

Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and thunder."

She grabbed Swee'pea. "I'm taking the brat to the country."

"But you can't do that--he hasn't even finished his spinach,"

Urged the Sea Hag, looking fearfully around at the apartment.