Our purpose for living is to find that perfection and show it forth.
Helping you out of a pickle should be my middle name.
Translated from the Russian by Kathleen Cook
— I'll gladly give my life.
— I don't want you to be glad about it. I want you to curse and fight until your heart's done pumping. And know this, boy. Your death will be a gift for them south of the Wall. They'll never know what you've done. They'll never know how you died. They won't even know your damn name. But they'll be alive because some nameless bastard north of the Wall gave his life for theirs.
The animal does not question life. It lives.
Its very reason for living is life; it enjoys and relishes life.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell blue skies from Pain
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell
And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for chains?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage
Irresponsibility? Who is more responsible than a gull who finds and follows a meaning, a higher purpose for life?
The pit closed in, suffocating. Meggie stood there, and realized it was too late.
— Did you ever skydive?
— No. Why?
— You ought to try it. You might learn something. You know, I was skydiving once, and my main chute, it didn't open. I pulled my reserve, that didn't open either. There I was, plunging to the Earth. Just as I hit the treetops, I discovered the meaning of life.
— Which is?
— It sucks, Arthur. It really sucks!
Can't keep my eyes from
the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just
an earth-bound misfit, I