You are so bullheaded!” cried Aethra. “You must have gotten it from your father.” “I don’t think so,” muttered Po.

I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.

—No. Usted es una persona diferente, queriendo ser igual. Y esto, desde mi punto de vista, es considerado una enfermedad grave.

Written By Paulo Coelho

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