Kore: You’re the sort of woman who discusses political theory over tea, debates with yourself over adopting orphaned kittens. Everything you need is defined by predictability, safeness, everyone plays the same games and no one wins, everyone colors within the lines. This is your equality.

Kore: You all have one job and one hobby and one eschatology of the evolved future of mankind, this is your diversity. One drone among millions of identical minds. Same hatreds, same politics, same goals. Same spirit, no soul.

Kore: You believe that you can outlaw telepaths, and on the day when you’ve gone and passed your law, telepaths will burst like soap bubbles in the sun, never to be heard of again.

Kore: Every nail will be hammered down, all the tall poppies cut, and no one will ever say that hateful word that was so mean to say to people, to remind them that there was a thing called a telepath, when they could never become a telepath, no matter how much they wanted to, pr pretended to, or cried.

Kore: Your animating spirit is a hothouse plant. It doesn’t belong in reality. And you…you are a pitiable fool.

Kore: And here I am, a six foot amazon with arms like a gorilla and hands the size of dinner plates, a fetish for torture and a junkie’s adrenaline.

Kore: It was never a fair contest,

Kore: and you were destined to lose from the beginning of time.

Kore: You now you’ll never survive tonight if I don’t help you.

Kore: What the hell I wrong with you? Why are you doing this?