“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.” - William Shakespeare.
The Moon is Walking.
"We’d think, ‘These guys are like national monuments, like the pyramids.’ And that poses the question, ‘But what are we?’ Well, I guess we’re sand crabs or scabs or something less dignified."