The king's safety is a factor which must be reckoned with constantly, so we build taller libraries and hide him on shelves. He sits there, licking his wounds with relish and other condiments, smiling over his gaggle of nearsighted supplicators who study with stoic virtuosity.

This is how we show our collective respect and admiration, our sighs fluttering the bonfires of ancient men and mortality.

Sitting in quiet nooks, we city ourselves, as he stresses the ideas and methods of opening play, because no one else would condescend to declare it with such frank terminology.


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