In the end, it will be every man for himself. It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.
*EVERYBODY! GOD ALERT! GLORY TO THE PEOPLE!”
I think if you’re going to be conventionally romantic you’ve got to go all the way: a beautiful dinner somewhere lovely, with boat-loads of flowers, chocolates and champagne. But it might also be nice to wrap up warm and sit on a roof somewhere, with a cup of hot soup and your girl, watch the planes come in over London and listen to the night.
For myself, for a long time… maybe I felt inauthentic or something, I felt like my voice wasn’t worth hearing. I think everyone’s voice is worth hearing. So if you’ve got something to say, say it from the rooftops.
"I can be bit irate or impatient at times, and my mum worries sometimes I might be turning into him [Sherlock]. Sometimes, I can sort of see the picture of what’s in front of me and expect everyone else to get it as fast as I do." [x]