I understand now that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention if only one can first conceive of doing so.

If swans weren't real myths'd make up.

Once any tyranny becomes accepted as ordinary, its victory is assured.

The song instantly insisted it'd never existed.

Assured her I've never loved anyone except myself and have no intention of starting now.

Whoever opined "Money can't buy you happiness" obviously had far too much of the stuff.

One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.