Jenny (she/her) and Malia (she/they) discuss Void 7.10 & 7.11. They have gathered to mourn the loss of the best and most reckless diabolist they ever knew… what’s-his-name.

This week’s Discussion Question: Tell us about a story that made you question a belief you had so much that it made you feel like a bad person.

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

Christina Rossetti, Song

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

Clare Harner, Immortality

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,

Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,

Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,

And shared a conversation with the housefly

in my bed.

Once I heard and answered all the questions

of the crickets,

And joined the crying of each falling dying

flake of snow,

Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .

How did it go?

How did it go?

Shel Silverstein, Forgotten Language

Prediction Tracker Spreadsheet

Follow us on Twitter

Join our Discord

Email us at paleincomparisonpod@gmail.com

Become a Patron -- Support Doof! Media

Read Pact and Pale!

Donate to Wildbow

This episode was released when Pale was up to (approximately) 18.a.