what will grow crooked you can't make straight

*from Thom Yorke's Black Swan

I’d now say that it goes the same way, vice versa. Awkward moments circumscribed the spree. Nonetheless I suppose it’s merely another assertion how there are those who better learn from oblivion, gather the nothingness, and thus originate (or come across) existence (and co-existence). I left with bucket of paints to be splashed on, forgetting that the only canvas I was about to encounter was an eternal sunshine on the spotless mind.
Perceptions are unconscious inferences. The way solitude is consciously remarked, accordingly, is somewhat a sundry.