I'm ashamed of running away from nothing at all. I just can't deal with these feelings any more. But when I look around at the fiends who would needle away my resolve, who would recreate me in their image, I recognize their insignificance. And so the winds of history disperse the fog of mysticism. The weeds of technology, those vast mechanical growths, release their stranglehold on c**ture. We call to the blackest sun to wither away. And I seek an end. If I could but see it. And by the actions of my own hands, it is revealed. This new epoch when mastery has turned to fellowship, when those with a hatred for life have seen an end to their own: these intellectuals who replaces facts with their mythologies, these tiresome brutes who violently sustain might makes right pedagogy. A new world springs from the corpse of the old. Our most ephemeral desires and our most treasured dreams lay the foundation for a brilliant new reality. Social interaction is no longer defined by dutiful sadism. The death of the system, the system of death. This will be the day.