Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. - Cormac McCarthy

Each leaf that brushed his face deepened his sadness and dread. Each leaf he passed he'd never pass again. They rode over his face like veils, already some yellow, their veins like slender bones where the sun shone through them. He had resolved himself to ride on for he could not turn back and the world that day was as lovely as any day that ever was and he was riding to his death.

War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner.

Best way to live in California is to be from somewheres else.