You're wrong. She is a phony. But on the other hand you're right. She isn't a phony because she's a real phony. She believes all this crap she believes. You can't talk her out of it.

Aprils have never meant much to me$$$ autumns seem that season of beginning$$$ spring.

I am torn between the necessity and the impossibility of answering.

Seek and learn to recognize who and what$$$ in the midst of inferno$$$ are not inferno$$$ then make them endure$$$ give them space.

We'll make an army in the trees and bring the earth and the people on it to their senses.

Iron bars make a cage all right$$$ and the more you look at them or reproduce them the more you know its a real cage.

...bleached by darkness

A man may be in as just possession of truth as of a City$$$ and yet be forced to surrender it.

Things are not what they seem.

They say the test of literary power is whether a man can write an inscription. I say$$$ 'Can he name a kitten?'