A sense is what has the power of receiving into itself the sensible forms of things without the matter in the way in which a piece of wax takes on the impress of a signet-ring without the iron or gold.
Where does discontent start? You are warm enough but you shiver. You are fed yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there's time the Bastard Time.
