That's the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they're suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That's why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster.

Applause is the beginning of abuse

There is no better way to know us Than as two wolves, come separately to a wood.

The wolf is living for the earth.

He could not stand. It was not That he could not thrive, he was born With everything but the will – That can be deformed, just like a limb. Death was more interesting to him. Life could not get his attention.

So we found the end of our journey. So we stood, alive in the river of light, Among the creatures of light, creatures of light.

Where white is black and black is white, I won.