If we hide, Therru, we feed him. We will eat. And we will starve him. Come with me. - Ursula K. Le Guin

«I am tired,» he said. «I did a lot today. That is, I did something. The only thing I have ever done. I pressed a button. It took the entire will power, the accumulated strength of my entire existence, to press one damned OFF button.»

«You have lived well,» the Alien said.

Between thought and spoken word is a gap where intention can enter, the symbol twisted aside, and the lie come to be.

I think there is no way to write about being alone. To write is to tell something to somebody to communicate to others. . . . Solitude is noncommunication, the absence of others, the presence of a self sufficient to itself.