As they walked, it seemed almost every building had some similar contrivance as decoration, adorning the street in a cacophony of clangs, bangs and whirs. The street’s surroundings danced with steam and smoke, the scent of oil and grease its perfume.

— A.F. Stewart

I look at the others, simpering courtiers and visiting dignitaries, all unsuspecting of what is to come. A merciful man should spare them, but I had mercy cut out of me at a young age.

— A.F. Stewart

Shine and shimmer my Harvest Moon, illuminate the shadows in the sky.

— A.F. Stewart