Strip back the beliefs pasted on by governesses, schools, and states, you find indelible truths at one's core. Rome'll decline and fall again, Cortés'll lay Tenochtitlán to waste again, and later, Ewing will sail again, Adrian'll be blown to pieces again, you and I'll sleep under the Corsican stars again, I'll come to Bruges again, fall in and out of love with Eva again, you'll read this letter again, the sun'll grow cold again. Nietzsche's gramophone record. When it ends, the Old One plays it again, for an eternity of eternities.

I remain thankful to God for all his mercies.

The song instantly insisted it'd never existed.

One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.

Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.

I think the story is the most ancient form of human entertainment.

Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.