Oh my sister, think-think how our own father died, hated...
yes, if you can, but you're in love with impossibility!
rest assured, wild irrational as you are, my sister
...you are truly dear to the ones who love you
These lines still swirl through my head when I am still. I suppose I could say that art marches on, transcendent, but I don't have the strength for that, Ismene would say.
Now it is time to catch up with my reading.