...even The Donkeys Were Quiet.

In El-harím, There Lived A Man, A Man With Yellow Eyes. To Me, He Said, "beware The Whispers, For They Whisper Lies. Do Not Wrestle With The Demons Of The Dark, Else Upon Your Mind They'll Place A Mark; Do Not Listen To The Shadows Of The Deep, Else They Haunt You Even When You Sleep.

Applied Properly, It [logic] Can Overcome Any Lack Of Wisdom, Which One Only Gains Through Age And Experience.

I Have A New Name For Pain. What's That? The Obliterator. Because When You're In Pain, Nothing Else Can Exist. Not Thought. Not Emotion. Only The Drive To Escape The Pain. When It's Strong Enough, The Obliterator Strips Us Of Everything That Makes Us Who We Are, Until We're Reduced To Creatures Less Than Animals, Creatures With A Single Desire And Goal: Escape. A Good Name, Then.

When I Saw Fäolin Fall, I Understood Then That The True Agony Of War Isn't Being Wounded Yourself, It's Having To Watch Those You Care About Being Hurt.

Too Late. It's Hatched.