"When the child was a child, it walked with its arms swinging. It wanted the stream to be a river, the river to be a torrent., and this puddle to be a sea. When the child was a child, it didn't know it was a child. Everything was full of life, and all life was one. When the child was a child, it had no opinion about anything, no habits. It often sat cross-legged, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair, and didn;t make faces when photographed. When the child was a child, it was a time for these questions: Why am I me, and not you? Why am I here, and not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Isn't life under a sun just a dream? Isn't what I see and hear and smell just an illusion of a world in front of a world? Does evil acually exist, and people who are evil? How can it be that this 'me' that I am wasn't 'me' before I existed, and that someday this 'me' that I am will no longer be 'me'?" - Wings of Desire