A Dream Will Always Triumph Over Reality,

Seduced, Shaggy Samson Snored. She Scissored Short. Sorely Shorn, Soon Shackled Slave, Samson Sighed, Silently Scheming, Sightlessly Seeking Some Savage, Spectacular Suicide.

Do Not Trust People. They Are Capable Of Greatness.

The Only Writers Who Have Any Peace Are The Ones Who Don't Write. And There Are Some Like That. They Wallow In A Sea Of Possibilities. To Express A Thought, You First Have To Limit It, And That Means Kill It. Every Word I Speak Robs Me Of A Thousand Others, And Every Line I Write Means Giving Up Another.

Come, Every Frustum Longs To Be A Cone, And Every Vector Dreams Of Matrices. Hark To The Gentle Gradient Of The Breeze: It Whispers Of A More Ergodic Zone.

Nothing, My Dear And Clever Colleague, Is Not Your Run-of-the-mill Nothing, The Result Of Idleness And Inactivity, But Dynamic, Aggressive Nothingness, That Is To Say, Perfect, Unique, Ubiquitous, In Other Words Nonexistence, Ultimate And Supreme.