"This is black, darling." "Yes, it's black." "No, it's white." "Ah, so it is." "We'll go." "We're going." "I don't want to go." "Then, so be it." That's the way it used to be. For the longest time, he'd wander down any path my mind wished to take, but now this same man has become a stranger. Friend, is there anyone who knows a THING about men?
Amaru (c. seventh century A.D.), Kashmirian king, compiler, author of some of the poems in the anthology which bears his name. translated from the Amaruataka by Martha Ann Selby, vs. 94, Motilal Banarsidass (1983).