I once knew a sad boy who in life's cheerful moments longed for the grave. When the youth in their strength employ in what makes their heart glad, He would sit underneath the oak tree, longing for the grave to become to him a peaceful rest. Nobody knew the reason for His extremely constant melancholy, save this, that once upon a time when this sad boy was only an infant, He saw the crushing of a butterfly, which in turn made him mourn for a day and forevermore.
K.oni
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