He Had Noticed That Events Were Cowards:

Tomorrow May Be Hell, But Today Was A Good Writing Day, And On The Good Writing Days Nothing Else Matters.

I Have A Really High Tolerance Level For Twits. I Really Do.

There Was A Hysteria In There, Certainly, But There Was Also The Exhaustion Of Someone Who Had Managed, Somehow, To Believe Several Dozen Impossible Things In The Last Twenty-four Hours, Without Ever Getting A Proper Breakfast.

Have Been Unavoidably Detained By The World. Expect Us When You See Us.

Too Soon, The Sun Will Rise.