and for a moment he held out his hands as if to steady himself or as if to bless the ground there or perhaps as if to slow the world that was rushing away and seemed to care nothing for the old or the young or rich or poor or dark or pale or he or she. Nothing for their struggles, nothing for their names. Nothing for the living or the dead.

There is no such joy in the tavern as upon the road thereto.

Every man's death is standing in for every other. And since death comes to all there is no way to abate the fear of it except to love the man who stands for us.

Choose your enemies carefully 'cause they will define you Make them interesting 'cause in some ways they will mind you They're not there in the beginning but when your story ends Gonna last with you longer than your friend

Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from.

Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it. You understand what I'm sayin?

There was someone there and they had been there. There was no one there. There was someone there and they had been there and they had not left but there was no one there.