You think <i>Okay, I get it, I'm prepared for the worst</i>, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that's what fucks you up. That's what kills y… - Stephen King

I'm tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. I'm tired of never having me a buddy to be with to tell me where we's going to, coming from, or why. Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world...every day. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head...all the time. Can you understand? ...

He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.

Words create sentences; sentences create paragraphs; sometimes paragraphs quicken and begin to breathe.