He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.

I don't know why I started writing. I don't know why anybody does it. Maybe they're bored, or failures at something else.

This place aint the same. It never will be. Maybe we've all got a little crazy. I guess if everbody went crazy together nobody would notice, what do you think?

I will do what I promised." He whispered. "No matter what. I will not send you into the darkness alone.

Only that man who has offered up himself entire to the blood of war, who has been to the floor of the pit and seen the horror in the round and learned at last that it speaks to his inmost heart, only that man can dance. - The judge

It would take a hell of a wife to beat no wife at all.

He can give me what you cannot. Death is not a lover. Oh yes, he is.