—El mal no es lo que entra en la boca del hombre —dijo el Alquimista—. El mal es lo que sale de ella.

In the Land of Memory, the time is always Now. In the Kingdom of Ago, the clocks tick . . . but their hands never move. There is an Unfound Door (O lost) and memory is the key which opens it.

And since I'm not afraid of losing you, I don't care what you think or don't think about me.

She bowed her head, clasping her hands tightly before her upon the arm of his chair, for her heart yearned towards him, yet could not reach him, and it made her throat ache with unhappiness to meet that look of his that rested on her face without seeing it.

Written By Georgette Heyer

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