The Great Glowing Coils of the Universe

People of Night Vale, do not be defined by how you can die, but by how you can live.

Many of you are still trapped in the Company Picnic. Others of you are trapped in mistaken impressions of how your life should supposedly be, but that started long before this whole Strex thing. That’s something only you can fix, through reflection and laughter and acceptance

Where are you standing, and how much work are you getting done where you are standing? What value are you adding to the world? What are you worth? Those are the questions you should ask yourself. And don’t worry if you forget to ask yourself. There will be people with clipboards who will come by soon to ask them for you

Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that’s not the right question. The question is: Are we living a life that is worth the harm?

The blindfolded man walks fifteen feet or so in the direction of the darkness, so that the men and the car are between him and the distant dome of light that is Night Vale. He walks to a certain point in the cool sand and then stops, partly because the man who is not short guided him there but mostly because he has taken himself there, as we all eventually take ourselves to that point where we will not be able to take ourselves any farther

“I understand completely,” says the man who is not tall.

“Me too,” says the man who is not short, although he does not understand. He usually does not. His partner understands for him and it all works out okay

Listeners . . . oh god, listeners, Khoshekh has been hurt very badly. Animal control came and took him to a hospital. They think he will live. They think he will live differently. They think there will be significantly less of him physically and mentally. But he will live.

He is my boy. He is my buddy. I love him so much

You won’t sleep when you’re dead, either.

It’s about looking at something and thinking you understand what it is. It’s about assuming the best of what you see only to find out quite suddenly that it is the worst.

This kind of misunderstanding has always been, to me, the most compelling kind of horror

Listeners, and here I address also myself: Remember our limitations. There are boundaries to all of our worlds. Fey, for instance, appears to be self-aware software trapped in a heavily defended metal box. But within our limitations, there is no limit to how beautiful we can become, how much of our ideal self we can create. All the beauty in the world was made within the oppressive limitations of time and death and impermanence.