It winds around the hot heart of our home country. It winds around every infinitesimal loop of genetic information. It provokes a shuddering series of cataclysms in the planetary crust of our nation, but when our star grows cold, that cataclysm will warm us. We understand so much more. We will always be what we were going to be, wound tight in the love of the Worm.
My one regret in not having children is that I won’t possibly exist in the Gestalt consciousness of the saviour of humanity, the God Emperor Leto II Atreides
“Moneo, did I ever tell you about Hexbear…”
“…no lord…”