In whatever age and time we live, monsters exist not that we may point at them and call them names, but that we can find them in that hidden part of us, which is best explained by what we most fear to face: our own end, away from the vivid light of day. And so I say, monsters are first and foremost to be loved, for the adversity they bring that tempers and teaches us; for the ills and sores they reveal; and for the new life they bring to our own awareness, perseverance, and decency. A monster scorned, is a greater monster born. A monster loved, and understood, is a sky reflected in a clear pond, and that pond is our own fine mirror. And then, when our end does come, we can part in joy, knowing that our work was truly done.