From Snow Crash:
Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. If I moved to a martial arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad.
Every time I’m in one of those fantasy or Asian novelty stores, I want very much to buy a sword. Just give me seven years of training under some Japanese master. I could fuck shit up.
But it’s a lonely journey, and I’d need some sort of goal to keep the fire burning. So, friends of mine, let’s one of you agree to meet me in seven years on an isolated isle somewhere, bringing only your metal and courage to a fight to the death. It’ll be awesome, trust me.