What’s in the box? What’s in the fucking box?
Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part.
The secret impresses no one. The trick you use it for is everything.
Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
No one cares about the man in the box, the man who disappears.
Now you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it because of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be fooled.
Detective. Detective. DETECTIVE! You're looking for me.
This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.
You're no messiah. You're a movie of the week. You're a fucking t-shirt, at best.