Where the willingness is great, the difficulties cannot be great.

Now the world has gone to bed, Darkness won't engulf my head, I can see in infrared, How I hate the night.  Now I lay me down to sleep, Try to count electric sheep, Sweet dream wishes you can keep, How I hate the night.

Girls are like roses
Beautiful and sweet
But once you picked them
You'll receive the pain you'll never beat

There are people.  There are stories.  The people think they shape the stories, but the reverse if often closer to the truth.  Stories shape the world. They exist independently of people, and in places quite devoid of man, there may yet be mythologies.

Written By Alan Moore

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