Do you shovel to survive, or survive to shovel?
Defeat begins with the fear that one has lost.
The thorn of death falls from heaven, and its myriad forms leave us no room to move.
Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.
A plausible rumor / Seems a lot more believable / Than the truth itself.
Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it's loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star.