My demons look like you sometimes.
People who have monsters recognize each other. They know each other without even saying a word.
It burns so much, everything you seek. It always burns.
It’s sort of weird if you think about it. We live in a pretty apathetic age, yet we’re surrounded by an enormous amount of information about other people. If you feel like it, you can easily gather that information about them. Having said that, we still hardly know anything about people.

Wanting people to listen, you can’t just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you’ll notice you’ve got their strict attention.

Dear Roberta Sparrow, I have reached the end of your book and there are so many things that I need to ask you. Sometimes I’m afraid of what you might tell me. Sometimes I’m afraid that you’ll tell me that this is not a work of fiction. I can only hope that the answers will come to me in my sleep. I hope that when the world comes to an end, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to.

pulp /’pəlp/ n 1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter.

2.A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper. 

Life is a game. So fight for survival and see if you’re worth it.