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1 " An oak tree and a rosebush grew,Young and green together,Talking the talk of growing things-Wind and water and weather.And while the rosebush sweetly bloomedThe oak tree grew so highThat now it spoke of newer things-Eagles, mountain peaks and sky." I guess you think you're pretty great," The rose was heard to cry,Screaming as loud as it possibly couldTo the treetop in the sky." And now you have no time for flower talk,Now that you've grown so tall." " It's not so much that I've grown," said the tree," It's just that you've stayed so small. "
2 " The patches are the stories. Hold onto that. And the muddy zigzag of ducktape against the cracked doorglass. There's four kids who sleep here, a nuff for the fingers on each otherses hands. There's room in each of them for one important thing. They're a band. It's not they're in a band. They're a band. Four spikes of ducktape, up and down, like mountain peaks or a sawblade. Every band's got a sign, something to sew on your jacket, gouge on the wall at a show. Four spikes up and down say MEATHEADS, and you picked a fucked window to knock at, tourist. They're the best band in the world. "
― Noah Wareness
3 " They knew where they were headed but they didn’t know where they were going. Retina shrugged the thought. Roma complained about the possibility they were walking into a trap. After all, he was one of the scientists that decided Solstice’s fate. Retina was adamant no one knew him. Lorenzo didn’t care about anything much but reaching Zharfar after Retina surgically removed his Unicell Groper. They were headed to Africa in what seemed a semi commercial private plane. Eight people including the pilots travelled. They weren’t supposed to know any more particulars. But Lorenzo’s watch placed the coordinates in both numbers and words. They were in West Africa, country Nigeria, state Osun, and township Isura. None of them had ever heard of it, the town, but they were there. And they had travelled for miles, over highly forested nonresidential areas and mountain peaks before they stopped. Wherever they were going was greatly isolated, Roma thought. "
4 " Great men are rarely isolated mountain peaks they are the summits of ranges. "
