It is a strangeworld, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, andtroubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make themall dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and drybones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall, alldance together to the music that he make with thatsmileless mouth of him. Ah, we men and womenare like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us differentways. Then tears come, and like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become toogreat, and we break. But King Laugh he come like thesunshine, and he ease off the strain again, and we bear togo on with our labor, what it may be.
Bram Stoker