"Sometimes I think words are so beautiful so flexible so strange so lovely that they make me want to weep, for their import, for their proximity to eternal mysteries... words will remain, and the highly complicated and idiosyncratic accounts assembled from them will provide us with the dark news of the blast. The written word will remain, scribbled on highway overpasses, as a testament to love and rage, as evidence of the wanderers in the ruin."
                                                                                                                                        --Rick Moody