What good is a quilt if it's unused? The same as a life unused. They're meant to be wrung out and frayed around the edges. That's the way of things. Always has been. Always will be.

“Love is a precious gift – one without strings”

“What is it? Tens, I can see the stick up your arse from here. I'm dying remembe…”

“Smoked sausage and a jolly tupping. Ale and folly. Fickle bosoms and bar fights…”

“I'm eclipsed by my role in the world”