“History is not ours, and yet we inherit it.”

“The spoken French monologue in the song is taken from Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus
“Il n'y a qu'un problème philosophique vraiment sérieux : c'est le suicide.”
(“There is only one truly serious philosophical problem: it is suicide.”) Camus’ philosophy stated that meaning must be created despite life’s absurdity. The song asks Achilles to not “listen to what you’ve consumed.”“

“nostos, homecoming. algos, pain.
pain in returning, pain in remembering.”

“At three in the morning, 

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,

No one appears, at three in the afternoon,

We sprint through the fields, ‘Mum! The neighbour's dog hates us!’”

“i never much thought about albert einstein, i must confess — 

not since i watched him with murphy in oppenheimer, i think we liked each other then.”

“Gods occasionally escape to the mortal realm, venture into the underworld, and sip on ethereal elixirs amidst the clouds.”

“I already know how souls are made.”

“As my eighty-two months in this school have become five, I have come to realise that Ferris Bueller was right. Life does move pretty fast but life in Mayo moves faster and if you do not stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it. 

So this is me, S/2556, signing off with my final goal in Mayo: to stop and look around frequently, because I will miss it.”

“They write your name into the pages of history, underlined and italicized, kissed by strangers who see their own audacity in yours and thank you for your service. Thank you.”

It all begins with an idea.

“And then I sat in the dark and waited for morning, knowing — as I still know now that the promise I had made was not to her, but to the future, and that one day, it would come back to collect some irony as well.”

“They tell you it was like a second sun, that it rose from the earth instead of the sky. That it burned so bright, so white, you couldn’t look at it without feeling your soul catch fire.”

“And the thought of it makes you hate yourself a little, makes you want to crack open your ribs and pull this ugliness out, offer it to the world like some sorry apology, for staring at all.”