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Quote by Emily X.R. Pan

“The rain clung to me as I dug through my bag of the keys to the house, it was a warm rain, and it looked gray as it came down from the sky. I imagined it to be liquid armor, shaping itself to my body where it made contact. Shielding me from everything”

Quote by Emily X.R. Pan

Work

The Astonishing Color of After

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Emily X.R. Pan

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“No son of mine, Lord. No son of mine! Beat beat beat You try to beat it out of me Belt it out of me Heartless heart Beat beating You think you can bruise me Out of being Bruise it out of me When you belt it beat it Try to break it- Try to break the thing you cannot break Because I carry it so deep inside No beat of yours no belt of yours Will ever come close. You try to beat it out of me Belt it out of me Belt me into buckling Beat me into heartstopping Stophurting Trying so hard You say you'll kill me to save me Kill the me inside of me Beat it belt it but it Just won't budge. Not for you. I know You can't stay in this room forever I know We can't stay in this room forever You beat me belt me to get to me But you'll never get to me Not the me me heartbeat me. I am saving it. I am saving it for tonight I am saving it for you right there And you over there. I am saving it for Every you with a me deep inside. Now that I've left that room Out into the world as big As a billion rooms I have saved me Yes, I have saved me Constructed of words and hurt And the glass self I've protected All this time To get to this one of a billion rooms This room tonight. Beat beat beat I have found my own beat My own pitter-patter My own sis-boom-bah! Beat beat beat I belt it out Song sung strong Stung song Tongue song Back from being Bitten back Some songs sung beg to be carried home. This song sings To be carried far and wide. Beat beat beat- The sound it brings Is the sound of wings.”

“Solomon Kane stood forth alone, grim man of a somber race: "Worthy of death he well may be, but the court ye held was a mockery, "Ye hid your spite in a travesty where Justice hid her face. "More of the man had ye been, on deck your sword to cleanly draw "Inforthright fury from its sheath, and openly cleave him to the teeth -- "Rather than slink and hide beneath a hollow word of Law.”

“Those who can breath the air of my writings know that it is an air of the heights, a strong air. One must be made for it. Otherwise there is no small danger that one may catch cold in it. The ice is near, the solitude tremendous—but how calmly all things lie in the light! How freely one breathes! How much one feels beneath oneself! Philosophy, as I have so far understood and lived it, means living voluntarily among ice and high mountains—seeking out everything strange and questionable in existence, everything so far placed under a ban by morality. Long experience, acquired in the course of such wanderings in what is forbidden, taught me to regard the causes that so far have prompted moralizing and idealizing in a very different light from what may seem desirable: the hidden history of the philosophers, the psychology of the great names, came to light for me. How much truth does a spirit endure, how much truth does it dare? More and more that became for me the real measure of value. Error (faith in the ideal) is not blindness, error is cowardice.”