in my lifethe long and winding roadacross the universewith a little help from my friendsi am the walrushere comes the suncome togetherhello goodbyehome sweet home


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I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I donít want to know. Some things are better left unsaid. Iíd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it canít be expressed in words, and it makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a grey place dares to dream. It was as if some beautiful bird had flapped into our drab little cage and made these walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free.
  ~Red, The Shawshank Redemption

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V

Voilŗ! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-ŗ-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
  ~V, V for Vendetta



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