Optimism is a most hopeless feeling, but I must retain it.

Paint the man, cut the lines, cut the flesh, watch the blood spill – let it come!

The statues were praying – gazing into the dark domed ceiling.

The faint glow escaped my fingers and began to spark brightly and spirit me away. Unlocking alien memories of spiralling towers, endless deserts, and impossible geometry.

Why did he have to go in there? You don't go into burning houses. He should have known better.