Last Atlas
"On the mountain's height we lift our eyes to the stars, as dwellers in a cave raise a torch; in deepest shadow we long for light, in warmest sun we thirst for rain ... the elves have their lost homes, the Church has its better worlds ... Every race, every people would lay claim to some blessed land: paradise barred to all but the virtuous, the victorious, the true and measured souls.
What proof lies in this discontent, what conclusion shall be drawn from its seemingly universal affliction upon otherwise rational psyche? ... A present state of imperfection, and the inconsolable certainty:
That world is not this world."
