Fear in beauty. Beauty in fear. Opposite ends of a compass that only points in one direction. Shy in the face of a beautiful woman is the same as fear in the face of drowning. The more beautiful it is, the better to kill you with. The curious snake bearing poisoned apples, the avalanche of pure white sliding down a mountain, a smiling cat disappearing in the trees. Images burned into memory for lifetimes, though the irony is not lost that those lifetimes are painfully brief.
Let down your hair, let in the beast. The wolf is speaking to you, why aren't you listening? Fear is beauty, and beauty is afraid. Take heart that the curse will not last forever, for death is inevitable. Life will always be stolen, whether by four or forty; the rock in the mountain will not protect you. Remain aware of everything around you, for these woods are dark and falling asleep for twenty years will not solve the problem. She's still sleeping. Leave her there; at least she's dreaming.
Every moment apart is a moment that dies, but such is life. Love is not a requirement. Trees fall in the forest, leaving roots behind, pining for second chances. We all fall down, brick and mortar. Horses running in slow motion obey no king. Wearing shoes made of glass will cut your feet eventually, and how will you dance then? Pumpkins may not be in season, depriving you of a ride home. Seeds should be planted, not slept on, so save your tears when idle thumbs fail to bloom.
Don't lie. Not because it won't increase your sense of smell, but because the clouds are still above you. It doesn't walk like or talk like, because it's not. The ending was already known, but the swan surprised anyway. He's cold because he's naked; he's lost because bread can be eaten; not because some child pointed the way. Sprouting legs didn't solve the problem, did it? Chasing the sunset will still leave you in the dark; chasing the sunrise will only leave you blind. Perhaps everyone belongs in the sea.
It's all so beautiful. We're all so afraid.