All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief.
We are Doom Eagles. And we are dead already.
So, this month is being the year before the seventies but it's getting a little hard reading with all the work I have. Unfortunally I only have finish two books. Let us see if this last few days I can finish more two or three books. Next month will be the seventies. What about May? What should it be?