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Last one turn out the lights

Zorro

TRIBE Member

'I’m not wanted nor do I belong, and I won’t be missed.
I now understand all that is around me.
From the riddles to voices of illusions
there is no need for me to fight it anymore.
The show is over the players can take a bow.'

~anonymous
 
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Zorro

TRIBE Member
Few are worthy of the title "genius". This unusual breed is often shrouded in mystery, their personas overshadowed by the magnitude of their accomplishments. Many were misunderstood in their lifetime, disparaged for their non-traditional thinking; their ideas too innovative for their time. We are introduced to many of these famous men and women in the pages of dusty textbooks where it is easy to forget how truly revolutionary their thoughts and deeds once were. These are the people that alow us to marvel at the ability of our fellow man, who change our lives forever whether we know it or not.
 

Bass-Invader

TRIBE Member
So don't turn off the lights
I don't wanna be
In the dark tonight
'Cause I can't read your mind
I need to know if
What I'm doing is right
So Don't turn off the lieeeeeeeeghts
eeeaaah eeeah aaaaayyy
So Don't turn off the lieeeeeeeeghts
eeeaaah eeeah aaaaayyy
 

Zorro

TRIBE Member
Society is a republic. When an individual endeavors to lift himself above his fellows, he is dragged down by the mass, either by means of ridicule or of calumny. No one shall be more virtuous or more intellectually gifted than others. Whoever, by the irresistable force of genius, rises above the common herd is certain to be ostracized by society, which will pursue him with such merciless derision and detraction that at last he will be compelled to retreat into the solitude of his thoughts
 
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Boss Hog

TRIBE Member
"I like bats much better than bureaucrats. I live in the Managerial Age, in a world of "Admin." The greatest evil is not now done in those sordid "dens of crime" that Dickens loved to paint. It is not done even in concentration camps and labour camps. In those we see its final result. But it is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed, and well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voice. Hence, naturally enough, my symbol for Hell is something like the bureaucracy of a police state or the offices of a thoroughly nasty business concern."
 
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