taken from welsh poet r.s. thomas' poem reflections, which was published in no truce with the furies.the original text is:

[...] Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they ignore. There is no truce with the furies. A mirror's temperature is always at zero. It is ice in the veins. Its camera is an X-ray. It is a chalice held out to you in silent communion, where gaspingly you partake of a shifting identity never your own. [...]