The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.

I am hunted by humans.

I see Death as the part of us that knows all the time that we're going to die, reminding us to live properly.

Smile with instinct, then lick your wounds in the darkest of dark corners. Trace the scars back to your own fingers and remember them.

But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?

Oh, come on, Arthur." "I don't want to hear it, Andy." "Jesus Christ" "He doesn't want to hear it, either.

Around us I can sniff out a savagery in the noisy southern air. It knifes it's way into my nose, but I do not bleed blood. It's fear I bleed, and it gushes out over my lip. I wipe it away, in a hurry.