You say you can't? Then don't do it. That's all.

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.

Rage is really only for the good days. The truth is there's little of that left. the truth is that the forms I see have been slowly emptied out. They no longer have any content. They are shapes only. A train, a wall, a world. Or a man. A thing dangling in senseless articulation in a howling void. No meaning to its life. Its words. Why would I seek the company of such a thing? Why?

For even if you should have stood your ground, he said, yet what ground was it?

Listen to me, he said, when your dreams are of some world that never was or some world that never will be, and you're happy again, then you'll have given up. Do you understand? And you can't give up, I won't let you.

Then they set out along the blacktop in the gunmetal light, shuffling through the ash, each the other's world entire.

I got here the same way the coin did.