- and she cried, and she kept crying and he understood that indifference was no longer treating him like the pharaoh that he once felt himself to be, rather a helpless lover, pathetic, watching, unable to impose himself upon his own fate - how good he has been to me - and yet, and yet, it is over; so it is that if one is to claim for themselves the difficulties of indifference, weakness too must be a state of power, a place of royalty from which you attack your own life with the relentless intensity of a hungry beggar, a dry addict, an over-extended monarch, power is not a function of luck, although when one has been lucky it is rather hard to believe this, none of us are chosen, luck is built, fate loved -