"...for nations vague as weed, for nomads among stones, small-statured cross-faced tribes, and cobble-close families, in mill-towns on dark mornings, life is slow dying... hours giving evidence, or birth, advance, on death equally slowly. and saying so to some, means nothing; others it leaves, nothing to be said."
Well, let’s say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait but the lion doesn’t come. And along comes a giraffe. You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe. I’d wait for the lion. That’s why I worry about you.