Death doesn’t let you say goodbye. It just carves holes in your life, in your future, in your heart.
We all know people who live too much in the past. Too much history, too much remembering, can ultimately destroy the present and the future.
You are so fragile, you mortals, such things of skin and air. Such things of the past. The future belongs to the strong, to the immortal races, to me and my kind.
Gentlemen. Human life is fleeting. I’ve watched many men perish, good and bad. The act itself, the dying, is the same. What distinguishes the honourable from the dishonourable is how in the few, most important moments in life, they conducted themselves. How would you men like to be remembered? As human animals, marginalized, locked away in cages? Or as warriors? Fighters of the highest order? Today, you fight for one tribe: humankind. It no longer matters what colour you wear, or what colour your skin is. All that matters is the colour of your blood. Red versus white. Today you will define who you are. Today you will spill white blood and change the future.