Citizen, enemy, mama's boy, sucker, utter garbage, panhandler, swine, refujew, verrucht; a scalp so often scalded with boiling water that the puny brain feels completely cooked. Yes, we have dwelt here: in this concrete, brick, wooden rubble which you now arrive to sift. All our wires were crossed, barbed, tangled, or interwoven. Also: we didn't love our women, but they conceived. Sharp is the sound of pickax that hurts dead iron; still, it's gentler than what we've been told or have said ourselves. Stranger! move carefully through our carrion: what seems carrion to you is freedom to our cells. Leave our names alone. Don't reconstruct those vowels, consonants, and so forth: they won't resemble larks but a demented bloodhound whose maw devours its own traces, feces, and barks, and barks. Joseph Brodsky
Beautiful... I think one other way to put it would be with a scene from the movie I told you is my favorite. The boy, who is bending spoons, tells Neo: "Do not try and bend the spoon. That's impossible. Instead, only try to realize the truth: there is no spoon. Then you'll see that it's not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself."