And then she’d take off again, with a sort of confused-confounded glance down at me, as though every time she came home, it was a shock to remember t… - Catherynne M. Valente

Failure was here before you and she’ll be here after you and she won’t even notice you go.

Though any species on any dumb gobworld may develop sentience (the poor bastards), no government ever does.

Are you kind enough, on your little planet, not to shut that rhythm down? Not to crush underfoot the singers of songs and tellers of tales and wearers of silk? Because it’s monsters who do that. Who extinguish art. Who burn books. Who ban music. Who yell at anyone with ears to turn off that racket. Who cannot see outside themselves clearly enough to sing their truth to the heavens. Do you have enough goodness in your world to let the music play?
Do you have soul?