hope is the thing with feathers that perches on the soul and sings the tune without the words and must be promptly killed with an adequately sized shotgun. - Emily Dickinson You ask of me what the matter is "why is there no word from you?" "what is there to do?" We shall fight the fight till the world end's night. But only so long as there's hope. And once it's gone there be little light neither a point to stay, I fright. What is done is done, now all there is left, is to lay it to rest; maybe stick a nice flower on top and call it a pretty little tomb to something we once held dear.
in the still silence of the cold dead cosmos, rose the disembodied scream of a ludicrous possibility; and the mad mad creation of a universe came about... -the big bang theory