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He understood that the ghost existed first and foremost within his own head. That maybe ghosts always haunted minds, not places.
That was one thing you found out when you were stoned, or wasted, or feverish: that the world was always turning and that only a healthy mind could block out the sickening whirl of it.
Danny did not think coke and computers were anything alike. But Jude had seen the way people hunched over their screens, clicking the refresh button again and again, waiting for some crucial if meaningless hit of information, and he thought it was almost exactly the same.
“You got a good face,” he said. “You got good eyes. You’ll be all right. With old ladies it’s all about the eyes. You want to be an old lady with lively eyes, so it looks like you’re always thinking of something funny. Like you’re looking for trouble.”
The dead win when you quit singing and let them take you on down the road with them.”
Horror was rooted in sympathy, after all, in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.
