A fair-haired mage, wandering and seemingly half-mad 
with grief and guilt.

A fair-haired mage.

"Let Psyche's corpse be clad in mourning weed
And set on rock of yonder hill aloft;
Her husband is no wight of human seed,
But serpent dire and fierce, as may be thought, 
Who flies with wings above in starry skies,
And doth subdue each thing with fiery flight.
The Gods themselves and powers that seem so wise 
With mighty love be subject to his might.
The rivers black and deadly floods of pain
And darkness eke as thrall to him remain."
	-Apuleius, _Asinus aureus_, "Cupid and Psyche"
	circa 160 AD.  William Adlington, Translator, 1566.

"But Sigmund turned him about, and he said: 'What aileth thee, son?  Shall our life-days 
never be merry, and our labour never be done?'  But Sinfiotli said: 'I have looked, and lo,
there is death in the cup.'

"But Sigmund turned him about, and he said: 'What aileth thee, son?  
Shall our life-days never be merry, and our labour never be done?'  
But Sinfiotli said: 'I have looked, and lo, there is death in the cup.'

A slice of pizza. Don't tell me you don't know what that is!

A slice of pizza; a flatbread with tomato sauce, mozarella di bufala,
and basil.. 
"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore."
	-Jack Brooks, "That's Amore"