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Excerpt
from:
The Sandman
"Season
of Mists"
By Niel Gaiman
Dream of the Endless: ah, there's a conundrum.
In this aspect (and we perceive but aspects of the Endless,
as we see the light glinting from one tiny facet of some huge
and flawlessly cut precious stone), he is rake-thin, with skin
the color of falling snow.
Dream
accumulates names to himself like others make friends; but he
permits himself few friends. If he is closest to anyone, it
is to his elder sister, whom he sees but rarely.
He heard
long ago, in a dream, that one day in every century Death takes
on mortal flesh, better to comprehend what the lives she takes
must feel like, to taste the bitter tang of mortality: that
this is the price she must pay for being the divider of the
living from all that has gone before, all that must come after.
He broods on this tale, but has never questioned her about its
truth. Perhaps he fears that she would answer him.
Of all
the Endless, save perhaps Destiny, he is most conscious of his
responsibilities, the most meticulous in their execution.
Dream
casts a human shadow, when it occurs to him to do so.
(c)1992, DC Comics Inc.
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