And love, with a cursive capital 'L,' is merely sleight of hand, doled out by genetic edict in order to keep… — Nick Sagan
And love, with a cursive capital 'L,' is merely sleight of hand, doled out by genetic edict in order to keep DNA flowing. It's all genetics. And beyond that, it's all just zeros and ones. But friendship, with an unpretentious lowercase 'f,' is real and right and valuable.
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...and he died for what?--what thrill?--what cause?--tell me what treasure is worth the oxygen in a good man's brain?
'Tell me who I am.'
'Halloween,' she said.
I'd been rooting against it, but when the word came, it was almost a relief...Hell, I thought. A rose by any other name.
'And who is that?'
'You are my Lord Halloween, Prince of the Marshes, King of Kadath, High Sovereign of the Orange and Black.'
Why did it have to be ? Why couldn't it have been hypermnesia? Or ? Or hypochondria?
