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.

Not all dying words are true and this blessing is no less real for being shorn of its ground.

Things happen to you they happen. They dont ask first. They dont require your permission.

There was nothin to set a man's mind at ease like wakin up in the morning and not havin to decide who you were.

I was afraid I was goin to die and then I was afraid I wasnt.

What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay.

On this road there are no godspoke men. They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world.