The Pact “Darling…” “Yes?” I’ve overworked my upper body, neck and limbs.” “And now you look all out of proportion?” “Yes, well it’s my legs…” “Your chicken legs?” “Chicken legs?” “Your scrawny, white chicken legs.” “I wish I’d never started with this body building fitness malarkey.” “You could work on your legs.” “I can barely walk without feeling dizzy and seeing little yellow stars flicker in front of my eyes.” “You mean, it’s too late? Like, way too late?” “Yup, I think so.” “What do you want to do?” “Well…” “Please, don’t say what I think you’re about to say, Will.” “Daphne…?” “Will?” “Daphne??” “Will!”
Ydych Chi’n Credu Mewn Hanes? Rydych chi’n gweld, dydw i ddim yn siŵr am hanes. Pwy sydd i ddweud beth yw un gair yn erbyn un arall? Pwy sydd i ddweud bod y person hwnnw hyd yn oed yn bodoli? Ni allai fod. Gallai arbed llawer o drafferth!
I played sat on a chair bearing no back, a tune, a jig, a dance for goose and man. They stomped their feet in time, around they spun. Round hole I’d cut, let light inside, showed you, I caught a glimpse of you outside this door.