King Lear

My feelings, they're...

Jin, you know, he's a great one for knowing himself. His feelings are the same as they've always been. Lora knows it. Haze knows it. They could speak for him, but they'd never dare.

And I could never speak for you. I could never presume myself your interpreter nor your interlocutor.

Well. That's neither here nor there. I mean to tell you of my feelings.

I mean to tell you that the trees have been greener, the grass thicker and more lush for your long strides through it, as if you always know exactly where to go and you are never lost, for to be lost would mean that you had ceased to know yourself, and you'd never do that.

You know yourself. You know me. I can't say what it is that's stopping you from being the most intelligent and powerful, attention-commanding notice for future care of the story that is being told now, now, now; what has seen fit to lie in your path a precipice between you and your own fullest self.

Are you not yourself? You know yourself.

It doesn't matter. That's not the point. The point is that you have always been the highest and the greatest, to me.

To me. Well, and I am only one man. Only one man, upon whose back is strapped a sword as wide as the world is tall. I am disproportionate. You are the perfect collection of lines.

Whosoever has drawn you has done the most keen and clever of jobs; has done work which transcends the very idea of toil.

Your art, which you create so effortlessly, is the most hard-won and the most precious, to me.

To me. Well, and I am just like everyone else, the force of only one self-ignorant man.

You know yourself. You know the world. You know the hearts and minds of every single self-evident man.

You know me. You are me. You are my hopes and dreams, my ether-bound spirit.