Legends Don't Have To Make Sense. They

I Think It's Impossible For Anyone Famous To Come From Here, Because Everyone Around Here Is Insane.

I Mean, You're Right About The Fire And War, All That. But That Rapture Stuff--well, If You Could See Them All In Heaven--serried Ranks Of Them As Far As The Mind Can Follow And Beyond, League After League Of Us, Flaming Swords, All That, Well, What I'm Trying To Say Is Who Has Time To Go Round Picking People Out And Popping Them Up In The Air To Sneer At The People Dying Of Radiation Sickness On The Parched And Burning Earth Below Them? If That's Your Idea Of A Morally Acceptable Time, I Might Add.

Questions Don't Have To Make Sense, Vincent," Said Miss Susan. "but Answers Do.

Perhaps The Magic Would Last, Perhaps It Wouldn't. But Then Again, What Does?

Theres No Stink More Sorrorful Than The Stink Of Wet, Burnt Paper. It Means: The End.