The Color White Is The Absence Of

A Person's Memory Is Everything, Really. Memory Is Identity. It's You.

And So Will The World End, I Think, A Victim Of Love Rather Than Hate. For Love's Ever Been The More Destructive Weapon, Sure.

Humans Were Built To Look Back; That's Why We Have That Swivel Joint In Our Necks

Roland Had Taught Him That Self-deception Was Nothing But Pride In Disguise, An Indulgence To Be Denied.

And The Rain Went Rollin Down The Windowpanes, And The Shadows Wiggled N' Squiggled On Her Check And Forehead Like Black Veins.