It starts with a thought. There's a cat in me. Put a particle, and it dies. Or so you think. You can't see it, but the states... there are two, both at once. I'll ask you this one time... what am I?

I’m a label, a game, and a trace, Attached to your name in a digital space. What am I, rhyming with brag?

We can play a little game of wits, if you like. If you would think to insult my intelligence, then you have already lost. Nothing looks worse on a person than cruelty and contempt, and my arguments are every bit as good as yours, in any measurable degree. If instead you would compliment me, you shall honor yourself, for kindness carries a dignified air of nobility, and sits well on any who choose to wear it. Whether the game is to be played at all, of course, is up to you.

I start all trouble, End all comfort, question kings. I’m a single sound, Yet open endless doors. Ask me once, and nothing sleeps.

It is not a musical symbol as it looks, but a conjunction And per se and