This morning I shot six holes in my freezer. I think I’ve got cabin fever.

Arrows you may dodge and fever you may antibody for, but mortal grief is a misfortune you cannot escape.

I don’t feel very much like Pooh today,” said Pooh. “There there,” said Piglet. “I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.

The heat of his night time fever was being brushed away entirely by the breeze as the light mists evaporated. The same process that was happening around him, was happening within him too. He was being reborn with the morning.