God appears, and God is light,
to those poor souls who well in night,
but does a human form display,
to those who dwell in realms of day.

If humankind had no more cause for war, if would make war for sport instead.

Identity has no meaning without society, and society has no meaning without the individual.

I've been wondering, what made our ancestors settle in these godforsaken places? It can't have been easy with those frail, squishy bodies of theirs.
What makes a caveman go yes, this frozen hellscape is where I want to live out my days?

It's not right to make fun of Melville's comically absurd inability to take decent pictures.
She's a hyper-advanced humanoid machine, not a photographer.