With the throttle screwed on there is no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right... and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration, and vibrates along your arms. The Edge. There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when the time came to choose between Now and Later. But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. It is a means to an end, to the place of definitions.
- Hunter S. Thompson
