We are the hollow men...
Our dried voiced, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
or rat's feet over broken glass...
T.S. Eliot
Oh Mitch, Lindsay, Rubio, Scott, Paul
How phoney - how senless
“Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke
