"We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?" Christina Rossetti 1859
A noiseless, patient spider, I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated; Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself; Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.
Once we were mighty, Stars bent to our will, Our reach was infinite, Our power incontestable, With outstretched hands we tried, To touch the face of perfection, But we came too close, To that which is not due mortals, And our punishment is our curse, Our endless sorrow. - Translation of an old Jovian poem
Dashboard
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Active TimezoneUSTZ
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Intel Profile
PlaystyleSolo (0 kills)
Avg Fleet: -
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