The question of dying becomes a wise reminder. It cures us of our innocence of the future.
Stories have no point if they don't absorb our terror.
Human existence had to have a deeper source than our own dank fluids. Dank or rank. There had to be a force behind it, a principal being who was and is and ever shall be.
It is all falling indelibly into the past.
If you know you're worth nothing, only a gamble with death can gratify your vanity.
A writer decides to follow some ideas and not others for reasons that aren't always clear to him. It's often a matter of intuition.