Jon Sheets

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‘Ah, Bardia, Bardia,’ I sobbed, ‘if only you’d killed me. I’d be out of my misery now.’ ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said he. ‘You’d be dying, not dead. It’s only in tales that a man dies the moment the steel’s gone in and come out. Unless of course you swap off his head.’
Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold
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