“Th' only dream worth havin', I told that comely wench, be t' dream that ye will live while ye’re alive and visit Davey Jones' Locker only when ye’re dead.” (Prescience? Perhaps.)
“Which means exactly what?” (Arched eyebrows, a little annoyed.)
I tried t' explain, but didn’t do a very good job o' it. Sometimes I need t' write t' think. So I wrote it down fer that comely wench on a paper napkin. This be what I wrote: T' love. T' be loved. T' no nay ne'er forget yer own insignificance. T' no nay ne'er get used t' th' unspeakable violence and th' vulgar disparity o' life aroun' ye. T' seek joy in th' saddest places. T' pursue beauty in its lair. T' no nay ne'er simplify what be complicated or complicate what be simple. T' respect strength, no nay ne'er power. Above all, t' watch. T' try and understand. T' no nay ne'er look away. And no nay ne'er, no nay ne'er, t' forget.
