People hide secrets,time is a lie,adn the material world can disappear in an instant.It has and it will again.Our identities change,our names,the way we look,how we act and speak.We are shape shifters.There is no control;no constant,no shelter,but the love of family and the body God gave us.And we can only hope that it will always be enough.

taken from Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles ep 2 (Gnothi Seauton)
we cannot predict;only try to prevent.

episode 3 (the turk)

On July 16, 1945, in the mountains outside of Los Alamos, New Mexico, the world's first atomic bomb exploded. The white light pierced the sky with such intensity that a blind girl claimed to see the flash from a hundred miles away. After witnessing the explosion, J. Robert Oppenheimer quoted a fragment of the Bhagavad Gita, declaring, "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." His colleague, Ken Bainbridge, put it another way when he leaned close to Oppenheimer and whispered, "Now we're all sons of bitches." Now we are all sons of bitches.

The pride of man, of parents as well, makes us believe that anything we create we can control. Whether from clay or from metal, it is in the nature of us to make our own monsters. Our children are alloys all, built from our own imperfect flesh. We animate them with magic and never truly know what they will do.

too lazy to cite frm here on

funny one!
Dr. Silberman: He came down the hall, this large man – I thought it was a man – until he threw the guard through the window just like a rag doll. Not an ounce of emotion, just blank like a death mask. Then the other one came…
Ellison: There was two of them?
Dr. Silberman: They were different. The second one was almost beautiful, perfect, like a changling. A face of mercury.

All of us wear masks. They can be worn out of love and the desire to remain close to those around us, to spare them from the complicated reality of our frayed psyches. We trade honesty for companionship and in the process, never truly know the hearts closest to us.

In Lord of the Flies, a group of boys slaughter a pig in the jungle. They torture it and place its head on a sharpened stake as an offering to the beast that hovers, god-like, over the island. Black blood drips down the pig's teeth. And the boys run away. Later, when one of the boys is alone, he weeps. But not for the pig. The boy weeps for the end of innocence and the darkness of men's hearts.

think about them. seriously.

isaac.

emo-ing again