He is brilliant, yes, but evil. So evil I despair of comprehending him. This man doesn't want to murder his father and possess his mother: he wants to murder God and possess the cosmos. He would tear the earth from its foundations and throw the oceans from their beds, pausing only to lick the salt from his fingers. His strength is the strength that extends beyond sanity. I know not the origin of these desires. As a child he would dream of shaping the hills by the clapping of his hands, the nodding of his head. Entire nations would be his plaything, all of literature a decoration for his room. As he grew, so did his imaginings. He saw himself capturing souls in glass bottles, of folding the sky into quarters and using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He planned to suck the atmosphere into his lungs in one breath, to still storms with a word. He studied to distill a dream that could cause a nightmare to bolt from its sleep. He searched to make the atoms cry out in pain. And now, what more is to be said? His rage grow every day. I knew him once, he recognizes me no longer. I will gaze at him, and tremble.--I wrote this in college. The first 5 lines (up to "cosmos") I found on Usenet, but turn out to be from the "Illuminatus!" trilogy, which I have just read for the first time.
The whole thing is not as good as the original passage, but hey.
Definitely digging workflowy.com/ - its core is just hierarchical bullet lists w/ zoom-and-breadcrumbs but it nails focus vs "forget me not"s
Ironically enough, "The Illuminatus! Trilogy" is the first Kindle book I run into with "Due to publisher restrictions, copy is not allowed for this title." when I go to copy and paste a sentence or two.
"If there were more bloody noses, there'd be fewer wars."
I Seem to Be a Verb.