It starts when you begin to overlook good manners. Any time you quit hearing Sir and Mam the end is pretty much in sight.

Nobody wants to be here and nobody wants to leave.

The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the name of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever.

Ever step you take is forever.

The core of literature is the idea of tragedy... You don't really learn much from the good things that happen to you.

Query: How does the never to be differ from what never was?

If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?