"Those holes in my mind are increasingly gaping. You can not breach the inner sanctum of the place of storing, the entryway is blocked. So what if the squashy material between my ears is squashier than most? I may not be perfect like a hanging picture but my words are wise, and backed up by time! A pox, a pox on both your brain cells! Try as I may you must think that I deceive you with my admittedly cunning ways! As far as my eye has seen our rocky grave extends, and yet you cast away my help as you would a puppy freshly rolled in its own faeces! I hope that your warped sense of morality is better company than I, because now it is all you have left!"