Once, my dearest love, the demons made a mirror, a lovely thing of hammered silver and blown glass, for such is the artifice of Hell. And such was the magic of that mirror that it twisted and shrank any good aspect of whatever was reflected in it, and magnified the bad a thousandfold, until it was all that could be seen. And the demons called this truth, and rejoiced that men and their thoughts and nations and their deeds should be seen in this marvelous mirror, and one day they decided to carry the mirror unto Heaven, so that they might look upon the angels there. But as they rose higher and higher storms assailed them, and the mirror slipped from their fingers and fell, shattering into a thousand pieces; and the pieces lodged themselves in the eyes and hearts of men and women, and ever after have poisoned their vision.
Once, my dearest love, the demons made a mirror, a lovely thing of silver and glass, for such is the artifice of Hell. And such was the magic of that mirror that it twisted and shrank any good aspect of whatever was reflected in it, and magnified the bad a thousandfold, until it was all that could be seen. And one day the demons decided to carry the mirror unto Heaven, so that they might look upon the angels there. But when they reached Heaven the mirror showed only the angels in their goodness, for it little avails to attempt to collapse the infinite goodness of Heaven, nor to magnify a thousandfold such faults as are not there. And the demons raged, and the mirror slipped from their fingers and fell, shattering into a thousand pieces; and the pieces lodged themselves in the eyes and hearts of men and women, and ever after have poisoned their vision.
Once, my dearest love, the demons made a mirror, a lovely thing of silver and glass. And such was the magic of that mirror that it shrank any good aspect of whatever was reflected in it, and magnified the bad a thousandfold. And the demons rejoiced, for it is in the way of demons to love their flaws, and love whatever separates them from Heaven; for if they did not, surely they would be in Heaven. And so they kept the mirror close and safe, and admired themselves in it, and its light was never seen in the world of men, nor ever less in Heaven.
Once, my dearest love, the demons made a mirror, a thing of silver and glass, which shrank any good aspect of whatever was reflected in it, and magnified the bad a thousandfold. And the demons rejoiced, for it is the way of demons to love their flaws, and love whatever separates them from Heaven. But among their number there was one who did not feel as demons did, and she went often to sit before the mirror, and whatever she saw there she went and cut away from herself, in her habits and her ways and her thoughts, until there was less and less of evil in her, and the mirror expanded it more and more. And they say it took a thousand years, but in time she walked up out of Hell, and through the world, and returned to Heaven.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and he cursed the small and familiar things of his life, which had been made hateful in his sight, and departed from them in the company of a heartless queen of snow and ice. But his childhood playmate followed him loyally, and with the help of friends and angels, came at length to hold him close and wash the splinter of ice from his sight with her own hot tears. And for this he loved her gratefully and well his whole life long.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and he cursed the small and familiar things of his life, which had been made hateful in his sight, and departed from them in the company of a heartless queen of snow and ice. And his childhood playmate followed him loyally, seeking always to return him to the land of men, but the way was cold, and the path froze her feet and her tears and her heart, and in the end she remained with him, lost within her own prison of frost.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and made the things of his childhood hateful in his sight; and he departed for the snowy north in the company of a heartless queen of ice. And when his childhood playmate found him there, he told her he was sorry, but there was no way to restore his sight, or make him a fit inhabitant of the lands of men. And so she plucked from the frosted air a thread of silver, and plunged it deep into her heart, that she might see the world as he did, and remained ever after in the palace of snow and ice. And it is said in the sunlit lands that she loved him gratefully and well her whole life long.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and made the things of his childhood hateful in his sight; and he departed for the snowy north in the company of a heartless queen of ice. And when his childhood playmate found him there, the snow queen told her that her friend had been frozen into a statue among statues, all birds and trees and fountains, and that she might only take him out again from that place if she loved him well enough to find him amidst that tangle of frozen dreams, and loved him truly enough to melt the ice that encased him. And so the girl thought for some time, and she plucked from the frosted air a thread of silver, and plunged it deep into her heart, that she might see all her beloved's flaws, and see him truly, and thereby find him in the ice. And surely she found him in the shape of a hawk of ice, all poised to fly up to Heaven, and held him to her breast until the cold was gone, and he was free.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and he cursed the small and familiar things of his life, which had become hateful in his sight, and could find no beauty in anything but the snowflakes on his windowsill. But he had some knack for the pen, and the words he wrote in his agony were almost lovely in his sight; and thus he labored after his art all his life, and wrote many tales fine and fair of a land of snow and ice, and perhaps in time crafted something worthy of the judgment of the silver sliver in his eye.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And one lodged in the eye of a young boy, and he cursed the small and familiar things of his life, which had been made hateful in his sight, and could find no beauty in anything but the snowflakes he saw under a microscope, for when everything is rendered unlovely we may yet magnify what is good. And indeed nothing ever removed the shard of silver from his sight; but in time he became a great scientist, and discovered many interesting elaborations of the structure of crystals, and was not so very unhappy in the end.
Once, my dearest love, there was a very talented man who loved a very talented woman. He saw her as a nightingale, and as it was truth, the world called her that ever after; and he saw her as an angel, and he dreamed of dying for her sake beneath a willow-tree. And some say that after she broke his heart he saw her as heartless queen of snow and ice, but this interpretation is not nearly so well-established as the others, and has been substantially contested by later biographers.
Once, my dearest love, men saw with one sight and spoke with one tongue; but it occurred to them one day to build a tower unto Heaven, with high walls of silver brick and many windows, that they might ascend it and see the world with Heaven's sight. But as the tower grew higher freezing storms shook it, and eventually it shattered into a thousand pieces and fell to earth. And the fragments of the bricks lodged in the tongues of men, and separated their speech into a thousand languages; and the fragments of the windows lodged in the eyes of men, and parted their sight, causing them to each see in each other what was unlovely. And thus did men learn cruelty, and thus did men learn war; and thus did men cease to live solely in the hot nations, and spread eventually to the regions of ice and snow.
Once, my dearest love, there was a castle that a heartless woman had built from snow and ice and the fragments of a broken mirror. And some reviled it, for it had been built from the remains of the arts of demons, whose cruel vision had ruined the hearts of men; and some said it was nevertheless gracious and grand, and a worthy redemption of an unworthy art. But what the woman there saw in her kingdom and herself is not recorded in this or any history.
Once, my dearest love, the air was filled with fragments of a broken mirror. And they were silver, and the winter sun flashed from them as they whirled, and it was hard, hard, to know what they would show if they ever ceased to dance, or to know more that they were light and lovely.