Whom could sell the moon?
A masterpiece pieced together longer than man had been piecing it together.
We're ants.
What we should want is a cause worthy of dying for.
To believe our death has more significance than our life ever could.
The beauty of tragedy is staggering, as if staring into the sun.

Not sure why I wrote that, I just felt compelled sitting here looking up at that big ball of blue cheese.