Long exile from Christendom and civilization inevitably restores a man to that condition in which God placed him, i.e. what is called savagery. Your true whale-hunter is as much a savage as an Iroquois. I myself am a savage, owning no allegiance but to the King of the Cannibals; and ready at any moment to rebel against him.

. . . though but a moment’s consideration will teach, that however baby man may brag of his science and skill, and however much, in a flattering future, that science and skill may augment; yet for ever and for ever, to the crack of doom, the sea will insult and murder him, and pulverize the stateliest, stiffest frigate he can make; nevertheless, by the continual repetition of these very impressions, man has lost that sense of the full awfulness of the sea which aboriginally belongs to it.

“I need a crowd of people / but I can’t face them / day to day.
Though my problems / are meaningless / that don’t make them / go away.”


“What’ve you been up to?”

“Gettin older, baby. Gettin older~”

“but now i’m here / if you’re feelin the fear / and i feel it too”

As he watched the eyeless face with the jaw moving rapidly up and down, Winston had a curious feeling that this was not a real human being but some kind of dummy. It was not the man’s brain that was speaking; it was his larynx. The stuff that was coming out of him consisted of words, but it was not speech in the true sense: it was a noise uttered in unconsciousness, like the quacking of a duck.

lol yeah

I just said to a black cat: “Hey. It’s OK. We’re on the same team. We wear the same color.”


. . . or simply The Hyena.

Hokay? ☆