If a Little Timmy could lift himself from his mobiliser and give himself so freely into a dropkick that he did not even catch himself as he fell to the ground, he would know what it means to truly encounter himself, to free himself from the ravenous uterus of his mother that has eaten so much of him and left nothing, and maybe even to find glory and true existence, like the great noblemen of the past. Unfortunately it is much easier to hate greatness.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsETTn7DehI

Powerful.