'Twixt noble walls, where shadows softly play, Dost thou traverse, 'neath moonlit archway. A path of solace, winding 'mongst the stone, Where silence reigns, and thou art left alone.

Tabula rasa, Lessons learned, Memory wiped, To dust returned

This liddle is brought to you by the liddle font Anyway, there is this footrace Kind of famous for being long But there are longer races still And someone who runs them is called...

I make important things stand out, on your face or in your notes.

In a lamp, my home is tight, granting dreams in the dead of night. With a twist of fate, I'm set free, a whispered wish and I can be.