The Amateur Tweets. The Pro Works.

I Was Keenly Conscious Of The Comrades-in-arms Who Had Fallen With Me. A Bond Surpassing By A Hundredfold That Which I Had Known In Life Bound Me To Them. I Felt A Sense Of Inexpressible Relief And Realized That I Had Feared, More Than Death, Separation From Them. I Apprehended That Excruciating War Survivor's Torment, The Sense Of Isolation And Self-betrayal Experienced By Those Who Had Elected To Cling Yet To Breath When Their Comrades Had Let Loose Their Grip.

For What Can Be More Noble Than To Slay Oneself? Not Literally. Not With A Blade In The Guts. But To Extinguish The Selfish Self Within, That Part Which Looks Only To Its Own Preservation, To Save Its Own Skin. That, I Saw, Was The Victory You Spartans Had Gained Over Yourselves. That Was The Glue. It Was What You Had Learned And It Made Me Stay, To Learn It Too.

Cousin, The Days Of Gods And Heroes Are Over." "not To Me. Not To Them.

Do We Have To Stare Death In The Face To Make Us Stand Up And Confront Resistance?

Do You Love Your Idea? Does It Feel Right On Instinct? Are You Willing To Bleed For It?