In the middle of nowhere, along a quiet stretch of road, the diner dreamt of the hungry dead. And of two men.

Because life is complicated and difficult. Anyone who says otherwise hasn't truly lived.

Quiet descended, a silence so consuming that even the drafty corridors ceased whistling. Bog wasn't certain where to look, so he solved the problem by plucking out his eyes and sticking them in a drawer.

In the middle of nowhere, along a quiet stretch of road, the diner dreamt of the hungry dead. And of two men.

The wisest man knows he know nothing.

Those who write are writers. Those who wait are waiters.

Terrible errors are rarely made all at once. Usually they are performed one small misstep at a time.