• There was a boy, who, as many boys before him, believed he was destined for something more important than the petty needs of the people around him. This attitude stemmed from the youthful notion that there was a certain benchmark for happiness that everyone someday achieved. He would find out soon enough, like all the rest of the boys before him, that there is no point in any life where any man can be satisfied with his lot.
  
  This is not supposed to be a nihilistic sort of idea. Instead, it is the acknowledgement of the sincerest root of motivation. If one had all the time in the world to live life and no end to muse over, would anything be of real importance? Death is an impersonal necessity.
  
  As people get older, they realize that life is nothing more than the meaningless moments billowing together until a storm brews,  peaks, and fades away. Ignoring the details means disappearing into the fog of metaphysical reality where fools delve in order to feel superior. What benefit is there to superiority when there is only one fatality?
  
  There is no time like the future and no end like the past. The present is the culmination of a breath and a sigh. All the poets and all the priests kneel in front of the same muse but are ignored like all the rest. To sing is to scream gently as to sleep is to dream fiercely. There is no greater power than weakness invoking strength and no greater loss than strength inspiring weakness.
  
  There was a boy and then there was a man and then there was a boy and then there was a man and maybe one of these days they'll figure it out before it's too late 

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