It is a comfort, in anguish, to be reminded of the scale of one's own troubles against the mighty breadth of the world.
There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme
After you, it's all cheap tequila.
If you will not die for us, you cannot ask us to die for you.
My lord. It is too much, and not enough
Your dreaming self seeks to tell you something your waking ears will not hear