It's an odd and selfish comfort that a lady as smart and clever as Regina, as successful and talented as Regina, as adorable and insightful as Regina
curled up in the comfort of life's day-after-day banality
too.
(Somebody wrote a thing about how they cried themselves to sleep first because they never wrote The Raven, then because they'd never sing like Florence -- personally, I'm trying to cope with never penning a masterpiece like this.)
