[He chews, perhaps longer than he needs to on a chunk of dumpling. He's smiling too, which adds a sort of playful edge to what he says rather than one meant to mock.]

The sun rose. It set. The wind blew. A thousand men died the world over and a thousand more were born. Presumably, in any case.

[He spent it in a gaol in Nassau's fort with an old, familiar book for company that he knows now by rote, but that's neither here nor there.]

Besides that, nothing remarkable that I'm aware.