Everybody dies. What matters is what you do between now and when it happens to you.

If only we were wiser or better people, perhaps the gods would explain to us the mad, unbearable things they do.

Maybe that's all demons ever are. People like us, doing things without even knowing what we're doing.

Humans invent an imaginary lover and put that mask over the face of the body in their bed. That is the tragedy of language my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.

As history shows us, when colonization is voluntary, people will self-select better than any testing system. It’s like those foolish attempts to control immigration to American based on the traits that were deemed desirable, when in fact the only trait that defines Americans historically is “descended from somebody willing to give up everything to live there.” Willingness is the single most important test.

What a waste of time to be posthumously famous.

When you walk on the face of a world, then forgiveness comes.