And the angel said unto him, “stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself.” But lo, he could not stop, for the angel was hitting him with his own hands.
This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that’s barely out of its diapers. I’m old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you.
"You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things..." — Gone With the Wind
