Today it struck me-
the thought of red suns setting
after I’m gone.
– Gunther Klinge

The bracelet you left behind
so easily removed
handcuff of my desire.

If the striker thinks he scores
Or the keeper cries in shame
They understand not the crowd’s applause
I make, and hear and earn again
For I am the crowd and I am the ball
I am the triumph and the blame
I am the turf, the pies, the All
Always and ever, I am the Game.
It matters not who won or lost
Nothing is the score you made
Fame is a petal that curls in the frost
But I will remember how you played.

–Terry Pratchett (Unseen Academicals)

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
–P.B. Shelley

“She says “Would you like to make love or should we have an intelligent conversation instead? I have been reading Noam Chomsky lately, I think he’s a marvel”
The Vietnamese guy, you know, he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He’s Vietnamese.”

We feel free when we escape — even if it be but from the frying pan to the fire.