[ Sparks of indignation course up through his bloodstream; Keating's handwriting isn't shit, and the least this asshole could do is try to pretend he's literate, but– screw it.

Charlie tips his chin up, jaw setting in place. He doesn't need to look at the book to recite it. He keeps eye contact with Prokopenko the whole time. ]

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately.

[ The whole group of them, cloaks whipping in the autumn wind as they clambered through trees and over rocks until they found their way to a cave that never felt too small. Neil's voice, reading these very words, resonant, sonorous. ]

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.

[ Neil's eyes bright with defiance after the phone call from god, turning his anger outward, for once. He only ever did that for Charlie. With everyone else, he buttoned it back up, aimed for his own heart. ]

To put to rot all that was not life.

[ Class, homework, Society meetings, rowing, soccer, lunches, dinners, the annual, rehearsals, week in, week out. The months flew by. Neil's face a blur of constant motion throughout. ]

And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

[ Puck in a crown of thorns, hoisting himself up like Christ onto his father's cross. He's good, he's really good. Snow and silence. ]