EDOLON: you know...
EDOLON: there's a lot to be said about the idea of pain.
EDOLON: these nails, for instance?
EDOLON: they hurt quite a lot, if you can believe it.
EDOLON: but try as i might to remedy this by pulling them out, it accomplishes nothing. my actions only serve to cause me more pain.
EDOLON: the ache doesn't stop, even after you've unrooted a single cause.
EDOLON: for who can say with certainty that it won't repeat itself, again and again?
EDOLON: you told me there's seven more nails waiting for me if i refuse to leave.
EDOLON: each one will be equally as painful as these last three, if not more so. after all, i've been afflicted with fresh wounds.
EDOLON: new pain folds itself over old pain, until it all coalesces into a hulking mass of agony.
EDOLON: but here's the catch:
EDOLON: when dealt in excess, the very idea of pain, no matter the cause...
EDOLON: becomes simply—