He felt in his heart cruelty and cowardice, the things which made him brave and kind. - T. H. White

Were they, for some purpose almost too cunning for belief, only disguised as themselves?

Is there anything more terrible than perpetual motion, than doing and doing and doing, without a reason, without a consciousness, without a change, without an end?

You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then - to learn.