Six Impossible Things

A Blog About Fiction and Reading

Hate

“The hate grew slowly.  For him it was the only way.  It grew at its own pace, and it grew completely, and it put forth red flowers.  It was the sort of hate no intelligent person ever knows.  It was its own thing.  It was not adulterated by reflection.”

–Richard Bachman, Blaze

June 14, 2007 Posted by | Quotes | Leave a comment