Statues creep into the council chamber on their stone feet, speak in the language of long ago, that remote past when some were still worthy of statues …
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Clothing in general is called “costume” because it hides and obscures who we are. We put it on and it puts us on.
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Reality becomes corrupted by our dreams, just as our dreams have always been infected by our waking lives.
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Citizens of our kingdom are told to dream of world conquest hoping this will have some effect, or at least keep them quiet.
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The old man forgets as he is forgotten, and forgets that he has been forgotten.
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Memorable Fancies 
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