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Panic is the founding father of ill action.
Disdain; the leading growth of bitterness.
Fear; the crucible of lacking control; both mentally and physically.
Happiness; the sweet procrastinator.
Bliss; the home of silent content.
Hatred; the force of destructive passionate acion.
Detachment; the fatal passive end; rendering all passion, all hate, all desire, void.

Hatred is a thousand times better than a passive soul.
An impassionate soul, is not in fact existent, merely it's strength of desire waned.
An impassionate soul... A completely passive soul... To ALL things?
Dead.
Fear the passive soul, for fear will seem to be all you will have left, alongside your dull surrounding of ice and solitude.

We are humans.
We were born to feel.
We are humans; and soul is all we have.