Break the limits

He’s coming.

[Dragon Ball Super – „70cm Shihou no Madobe”]

Transcend the catastrophe of being

and prevail.

To the bitter end

So here’s to comrades near and far
Raised a glass, raised hell
Years have passed closer to the grave
But this is the song we chose to sing
To the bitter end, to the end

Alik, Alik


[If These Trees Could Talk – From Roots To Needles]

Średnia długość kości piszczelowej i udowej dorosłego to ~87cm. Gdyby każdy miał złożyć swoje kości piszczelowe i udowe jedna nad drugą, łącznie byłoby to około 174cm. Łączna ilość zabitych w obu wojnach światowych to mniej więcej 103500000. Gdyby ułożyć same ich kości piszczelowe i udowe jedna nad drugą w linii prostej, jedna na drugą, stworzyłyby pion o wysokości około 180 tysięcy kilometrów. Księżyc oddalony jest od nas o około 384 tysięce kilometrów. Bylibyśmy niemal w połowie drogi do naszego satelity. A to tylko kości udowe i piszczelowe. I tylko z okresu ostatnich wojen światowych.

I had to face all this scorn

„I was taunted and sneered at so that I would not go home to my meals, and used to stay in the streets with a hungry belly rather than return for anything to eat, what few half-meals I did have, I was taunted with the remark—’That’s more than you have earned.'”

„He often said to me that he wished he could lie down to sleep ‚like other people’ … he must, with some determination, have made the experiment … Thus it came about that his death was due to the desire that had dominated his life—the pathetic but hopeless desire to be ‚like other people’.”


‚Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you.

If I could reach from pole to pole
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul;
The mind’s the standard of the man.

I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times


No regrets and no remorse 
Do I regret and not a single moment will I ever repent
Will I ever repent

So bend your knee


I am cut from the cloth of Judas and have seen his face in mine

And none shall mourn

On mute epitaph if only you could sing
What songs would you weave
Of all that could have been

My friend, hope is a prison


[Architects – Memento Mori]

As within, so without
The seasons bring relief
Just let me live and die in peace

So it goes.




” (…) Why anything? Because the moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?”
„Yes.” (…)
„Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.”

—-

On the eight day, the forty-year-old hobo said to Billy, „This ain’t bad. I can be comfortable anywhere.”
„You can?” said Billy.
On the ninth day, the hobo died. So it goes. His last words were, „You think this is bad? This ain’t bad.”

—-

The American was astonished. He stood up shakily, spitting blood. He’d had two teeth knocked out. He had meant no harm by what he’d said, evidently, had no idea that the guard would hear and understand.
„Why me?” he asked the guard.
The guard shoved him back into ranks. „Vy you? Vy anybody?” he said.

—-

„You sound to me as though you don’t believe in free will,” said Billy Pilgrim.
„If I hadn’t spent so much time studying Earthlings,” said the Tralfamadorian, „I wouldn’t have any idea what was meant by ‚free will’. I have visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe, and I have studied reports on one hundred more. Only on earth is there any talk of free will.”

—-

It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.

—-

Rumfoord was thinking in the military manner: that an inconvenient person, one whose death he wished for very much, for practical reasons, was suffering from a repulsive disease.

—-

Two Roman soldiers came into the shop with a mechanical drawing on papyrus of the device they wanted built by sunrise next morning. It was a cross to be used in the execution of a rabble-rouser.

Jesus and his father built it. They were glad to have the work. And the rabble-rouser was executed on it.

So it goes.