"I believe that the human spirit will never cease in its quests of aspiration, demands, yielding to nothing and no one. It vies for something to cling to, and in old age questions its host of what to die for. We are always in pursuit of possession. There’s simply no such thing as a wanderless heart, even for those who choose a life of extreme disciplines. However we are granted certain freedoms within our own thought. There lies the grounds for imagination and the resulting temptations that birth the idle heart, the most tormenting of human creations. We are left with nothing to cling to, wishful of release, searching for the inopportune rapport of disruption. I will admit that at times I find myself envious of the farmer’s life. The simplicity and directives of nature’s bounty being your guide. Grow. Eat. Live. At the same time, even with good intention, I know that I am more of a wildling than any crop suited with the tallest of shadows meant for feed. I am here left to do more than just grow. I am here to wake the wallowing and to archive this grave fight of confrontation."
— M. K. Mokotow