The pimp has a grin, never a smile.
The despondency that follows makes me feel somewhat like a shipwrecked man who spies a sail, sees himself saved, and suddenly remembers that the lens of his spyglass has a flaw, a blurred spot -- the sail he has seen.
They spent their time doing nothing... they let intimacy fuse them.
Though they may not always be handsome men doomed to evil posses the manly virtues.
What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born.
Creation is not a light-hearted game. The creator commits to a terrible adventure, which is to take up-on himself all of the dangers that his creatures run.