Was there ever a dream so rich, a thought so true? This was a question pondered often by the wanderer. Was there never a moment of pure wonderment so real that all the rain of woe had no strength to wash it away? This man heavily sat down upon his stool. His fire flickered wearily. His eyes echoed the dimming of its flames. His thoughts mirrored the ebbing of its passion. And now it was time. He glanced over at the knife on the table. It was sharp.