Is this the face that sunk a thousand ships,
and burnt the modules overheating them?
Sweet capsuleer immortal, let us kiss,
and enter this wormhole, see where it flies!
Come, pilgrim, come give me your soul again.
Here I will dwell, for heaven's in these ships
and all is dross that is not violence.
I'll fly dangerous for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall your capsule be sack'd;
and I will combat with weak capsuleers,
and wear thy colors on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
and then return to Jita for a kiss.
Thy flashies fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear'd to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms;
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!

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"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter." -- Hemingway

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"Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty." -- Hamlet