We few, we happy few, we band of snowflakes;
For he to-day that sheds his snowflake blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in Ur now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their Glitchoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

I was so tempted to type "FOR SPARTAHHHHH!!!" here, but I like this little verse too much to ruin it.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our snowflake dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a snowflake
As modest stillness and humility:
But when...
What's that? Get a move on the suns coming out!
Yikes!

awesome