I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face 
that was but a single countenance as if held in a mould.


 
     I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the 
ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how 
beautiful it was.


 
     I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth 
face in which all things were graven.


 
     I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye 
weaves, and behold the reality beneath.