if you can dream — and not make dreams your master

Though not to say that I'm an ascetic by any means, I'd like to think that I have relatively few vices, without even an addiction to caffeine.

I must confess though, that I am beginning to wonder if someone has finally found a way of slipping crack into the written word. Lately I find myself reading as if there is no tomorrow late into the night, as if consuming others' narratives will quell a deep-rooted hunger for a greater understanding of the universe or maybe just (!) humans and how we relate to each other the way we do. Perhaps it is a tactic to avoid the pitfalls of actual experience, but I find myself too caught up in this thrall to care at the moment.

Genius points to anyone knows to whom the title of this entry refers.