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I, dear sir, am a poet and a musician, and music soothes the savage breast.
“Never fear. I already have the first stanzas. In my ballad the mermaid will sacrifice herself for the duke, she’ll exchange her fishtail for slender legs, but will pay for it by losing her voice. The duke will betray her, abandon her, and then she’ll perish from grief, and turn into foam, when the first rays of sunshine…”
Subjects for ballads aren’t fir cones, you don’t find them under a tree.
You have captured the whole world, man, you are everywhere. Everywhere you introduce what you call modernity, the era of change, what you call progress. But we want neither you nor your progress here. We do not desire the changes you bring. We do not desire anything you bring.
Destiny alone is insufficient, it’s too little.
A choice which should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman.
“Doubts. Only evil, sir, never has any.

