I wonder if we are all lights in the darkness that inevitably go out. Their former brilliance does not matter, the smoke, and nothing else. I have been criticized for my creativity, but I tell myself it is always better to be the madman with his box of crayons. I love the rich imagination; genius or no genius in the eyes of the world. I am my own king, the purveyor of wisdom, crafting my cathedral in the stars. -Intellectual Shaman

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