"Preposterous!"
"To think, mere moments unseen, and you, my dear, wretched Fang Ye, have allowed yourself to descend into such a state? Like a bit-player crumbling in Act Three of a tawdry melodrama!"
"But your cheap life, your pitiful, squandered chances to reset the clock—"
"They are no divine panacea! No!"
"Even if—mark me well—even if Lady Fortune deigns to grant your pitiful plea, and you cheat the Reaper of this stalwart fool—"
"The next hound to take the stage will still rend him limb from limb! The act after that, still another will fall! And the next, and the next—"
"You! Will still be the blind fool in an endless labyrinth! Seeing not the strings of conspiracy, reading not the script of fate! Until at last—"
"You will have squandered the last of your pitiful worth, and—exit stage left, to no applause, in utter wretchedness!"