prowls like a velociraptor
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+ "who was that masked man anyway" THE LONE RANGER.
+ "In the world of Crush, panic is a synonym for being: in its delays, in its swerving and rushing syntax, its frantic lists and questions, it fends off time and loss....he is the animal trapped in headlights, paralyzed; he is also the speeding vehicle, the car that doesn't stop, the mechanism of flight. The book is all high beams: reeling, savage, headlong, insatiable." | louis glück on siken's crush
+ Rembrandt's phrase in describing his painting: "Die meeste ende di naetureelste beweechgelickhijt", can be translated as greatest, most natural movement (emotion or motive).
+ The ethos of the titan Prometheus is one of willing and necessary sacrifice for life's sake. Promethus: the giver of life, with his abdomen torn open. Ridley Scott says "'That could be a planet anywhere. All he’s doing is acting as a gardener in space. And the plant life, in fact, is the disintegration of himself. If you parallel that idea with other sacrificial elements in history – which are clearly illustrated with the Mayans and the Incas – he would live for one year as a prince, and at the end of that year, he would be taken and donated to the gods in hopes of improving what might happen next year, be it with crops or weather, etcetera.'"
+ It’s just flight; just a dream of flying, a constellation of fires dotting the streets below, the wind whistling through the film of dusk. There’s nowhere for him to go and no one for him to visit, and he steps off the edge of the lighthouse for no reason other than to fly. Isn’t that something? That in his tangle of a life spent running and chasing and hiding and hunting, the one thing he keeps finding solace in is the sensation of flight. The first impulse in lucid dreaming is to launch yourself into the air and soar. The thought that a hopeless ache for human flight lies in all of us, no matter who we are in life, no matter what other dreams we harbor— That this one primal thirst lingers at the bottom of all our hearts, when in all other ways we might forever talk past one another, our gestures indecipherable, our thoughts impenetrable. That the best and worst among us silently hold the same thing dear. That we all dream of human flight. Something about it makes mankind seem so vulnerable, like touching a heart of flesh sealed inside an edifice made of metal. Like finding your own features in the faces of your parents on their honeymoon. It’s really too bad we aren’t all strangers to one another, you think. It’s really too bad that the blood we share makes us mortal. | On evo-devo in Assassin's Creed
+ "Distinctly we see the difference of the colors, but where exactly does the one first blendingly enter into the other? So with sanity and insanity.” | Herman Mellville