The cosmos speaks only in tongues of entropy and design, shrouded in shadows that stretch beyond our reach. Listen closely as the void murmurs.
Mundane echo: "When the stars blink, are they winking at us or in silent contempt?"
Lunatic's decree: "In the endless night, I found a breadcrumb trail leading to Solitude's banquet, where the celestial jesters dance!"
Observers note: "Expanding thoughtforms—nebulae of ideas—rise and fall like the tides of sanity."
"I beheld the universe expand," cried the recluse, "and in its vastness, I was not alone."