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To be a hero is to be a martyr

I would die to be your hero

3 June 1986
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Friends. Anime. J-Boys. Cartoons. Books. Fantasy. Music. Movies. Fanfiction. Completely random.:
"About to leave most opportunities wasted..."
"At least we know that if we die, we lived with passion!"
"If you're not getting answers, ask better questions."
Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others. - Oscar Wilde

..."Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise." - Kubla Khan, Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"All these stupid silly songs keep trying to catch your ear. I'm trying desperately but it's so hard to persevere. Even if you'd listen, I never had much to say, it's the same old song I've been saving for today. Shelter me, oh Genius Words - just give me strength to pen these things...."

"This Earth", William Faulkner
If there be grief, then let it be but rain,
And this but silver grief for grieving's sake,
If these green woods be dreaming here to wake
Within my heart, if I should rouse again.
But I shall sleep, for where is any death
While in these blue hills slumbrous overhead
I'm rooted like a tree? Though I be dead,
This earth that holds me fast will find me breath.

"You're justified, but there's no justice if it's just a lie. ... You can take this however you want."

"To His Coy Mistress"
by Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.