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.