Once out of nature I shall never take my bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make, of hammered gold and gold enamelling, to keep a drowsy Emperor awake; or set up a golden bough to sing, to lords and ladies of Byzantium, of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Listen, if I had to choose who to hole up with on a desert island, it wouldn't be you. Ever. Hell, the whole cast of "Little Big Corporats" would have you beat. 'Cause you're a dickhead, in a big way. And sure, plenty of other out there are more deservin' of life. but even so... I'd never wish you dead.