It's the tide. It's the dismal tide. It's not the one thing.

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

If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

Well, I guess in all honesty I would have to say that I never knew nor did I ever hear of anybody that money didnt change.

The point is there ain't no point.

Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.

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?