Ensign Sartre, we appear to be caught in some sort of vortex. What does the tricorder say?
Things are entirely what they appear to be--and behind them…there is nothing.
So what, is this a wormhole, a tear in the time-space continuum, an illusion? Help me out here.
An existant can never justify the existence of another existant.
I JUST WANT TO KNOW IF WE'RE GOING TO DIE OR NOT!
One always dies too soon--or too late. And yet one's whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are--YOUR LIFE, and nothing else.
