V, a few Zetatech corpos walked into an auto shop. The punchline - none came back out.

There's a clocktower in Hereford where the names of the dead are inscribed. We try to honor their deeds, even as their faces fade from our memory. Those memories are all that's left, when the bastards have taken everything else.

We won't see him again. The only thing that will hold him down is six feet of dirt.

V: What is the sound of one hand clapping?
Zen Master: That depends - is someone clapping with you?

The dead are no more concerned with their corpses than a snake is with the skin it shed.