He had a stitch in his side. Yet even now — here was the hell of it — he wasn't completely sure. Long-gone crying. d his whole family and then decided to ramble around a bit, kill a few more folks before turning one of his guns on himself.
Putting words to feelings that always sounded melodramatic;words that were wholly inadequate for the tidal wave of sorrow that held him down in darkness. Dead trees clutched at the white sky, as if to snatch the clouds open. And most of that time he spent looking at the moon rocks and thinking, Those rocks came from a place where the skies are always black and the silence is everlasting. More people are going to see and hear that speech than any previous speech in the history of the human race.
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