Uh, I-I close my eyes.
Uh, and this image floats beside me.
A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare
that pounds my brain.
H-His hands reach out and choke me.
And, and all the time he's mumbling.
M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like
a blanket that always leaves your feet
Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll
never be enough. You kick at it, beat
it, it'll never cover any of us. From
the moment we enter crying to the moment
we leave dying, it will just cover your
face as you wail and cry and scream.

-- Todd, Dead Poets Society

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