--Alice Sebold
�Natural selection has not caused a flowering of intelligence or evolution of the spirit; at the first opportunity, we destroy one another like rats trapped in a too-small box.�
--Isabel Allende
�Poems. Always a sign of pretentious inner turmoil.�
--Buffy the Vampire Slayer
�Endure. And in enduring, grow strong.�
--Planescape: Torment
A tale is told of twin boys born to different mothers.
One is dark by nature, the other light. One is rich, the other poor. One is harsh, the other gentle. One is forever youthful, the other old before his time.
One is mortal.
They share not bond of blood or sympathy, but they are twins nonetheless.
They each live without ever knowing that they are brothers.
They each die fighting the blind god.
And there came a day when the god of dust and ashes raised up its hammer against the dark angel.
The hammer was lifted piecemeal, and each piece was a person, and to each person the god of dust and ashes whispered: This do for me, and receive in payment your fondest desire.
Each person, each piece said yes, and in so saying became the hammer of the blind god.
--Matthew Stover, Blade of Tyshalle
"It is time to convert the unbelievers, oh lord!"
"Convert them?"
"Into radioactive vapor!"
--Futurama, Episode 4 x 08, �Godfellas�
"That corpse wasn�t planted in clover;
Ah, nothing of her was found
Save those grey bones that Hare-foot Mike
Gave me for their lovely sound;
And as once her dancing body
Made star-lit princes sweat,
So I�ll just clack: though her ghost lacks a back
There�s music in the old bones yet."
--F.R. Higgins, �Song for the Clatter-Bones�
Sea Lullaby
"The old moon is tarnished
With smoke of the flood,
The dead leaves are varnished
With color like blood,
A treacherous smiler
With teeth white as milk,
A savage beguiler
In sheathings of silk,
The sea creeps to pillage,
She leaps on her prey;
A child of the village
Was murdered today.
She came up to meet him
In a smooth golden cloak,
She choked him and beat him
To death, for a joke.
Her bright locks were tangled,
She shouted for joy,
With one hand she strangled
A strong little boy.
Now in silence she lingers
Beside him all night
To wash her long fingers
In silvery light.
--Elinor Wylie