What can YOU say in six sentences?
“Men are meat, Urquhart—we’re vessels for action you and I—driven by little more than twitching hearts and blinking. But a soul? The soul, my good fellow, is not born when our skins are sewn. It is not woken suddenly when stitches weave us fleshy sleeves to fetter bone and blood and shit. Our soul is born when we are bid to grip our knives and slice the stitches from another. Men do not love and men do not joy until they’ve cut free the strings that limit them.”