Literatura, cine, televisión, música.
Palabras.
Capaces de hacernos reir.
De hacernos llorar.
De hacernos pensar.
De emocionar.
Palabras para guardar.
Para recordar.
Para leer.
Y para volver a leer.
Welcome, Neo. As you no doubt have guessed, I am Morpheus. I imagine, right now, you must be feeling a bit like Alice, tumblingdown the rabbit hole? I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you why you are here. It's that feeling you have had all your life. You don't know what it is but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad, driving you to me. But what is it? The Matrix is everywhere, it's all around us, here even in this room. You can see it out your window, or on your television. You feel it when you go to work, or go to church or pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth. That you are a slave, Neo. That you, like everyone else, was born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind. Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.
There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the Source, and the salvation of Zion. The door to your left leads back to the Matrix, to her and to the end of your species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you are going to do, don't we? Already, I can see the chain reaction - the chemical precursors that signal the onset of an emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic and reason - an emotion that is already blinding you from the simple and obvious truth. She is going to die, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
Hope. It is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.
All plans between men are tentative. If one man should suddenly have an opportunity to pursue a woman, it's like these two guys never met each other ever in life. This is the male code. And it doesn't matter how important the arrangements are, I mean, most of the time when they scrub a space shuttle mission it's because one of the astronauts met someone on his way to the launch pad. They hold that countdown. He's leaning against the rocket talking to her, "So listen, when I get back what do you say we get together for some Tang?"
I swear, I have absolutely no idea what women are thinking. I don't get it, OK? I admit, I'm not getting the signals. Women, they're so subtle, their little... everything they do is subtle... men are not subtle, we are obvious. Women know what men want, men know what men want, what do we want? We want women! It's the only thing we know for sure, it really is: we want women. How do we get them? Oh, we don't know 'bout that, we don't know.
