“Weep for what little things could make them glad.”
“what the willows don't know won't make them weep”
“I scrambled to pack my things, glad I owned so little.”
“...the most beautiful things don't always make you happy - often they make you weep...”
“Well, I'm your man. I'm the bloody bastard you wanted when you had me spawned. I'm your tool, and what difference does it make if I hate the part of me that you most need? What difference does it make that when the little serpents killed me in the game, I agreed with them, and was glad.”
“The weeping willows, on the other hand, are evocative of death. They are a little contrived, a little exaggerated, still green in the middle of all the colors of autumn, and there is a human pathos to them.”