“They nearly always resent the processes which carve and articulate their wings from the raw dross of their ‘human’ desires. Their dreams are about the things proper to the existence of worms and dirt. But their wings? Those belong to a divine order and way of being. The wings they resent the establishment of are the perfect vehicle of their own fulfillment, and, indeed, divinity. We all resented their establishment… until the first moment when, spread at last, they lifted us entirely above all mortal desire, concern, and tribulation.”

— an anonymous informant