There is the heat of Love the pulsing rush of Longing the lovers whisper irresistiblemagic to make the sanest man go mad.

For double are the portals of flickering dreams.One set is made of horn the other of ivory.And as for those that come through the sawn ivoryThey deceive carrying words that will not be fulfilledBut those that pass on outside through the polished hornDo fulfill the truth whenever any mortal sees them.

Dreams surely are difficult confusing and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive bringing tidings which come to nought but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them.