How do you distill the story, the agony, the rage, the love and hate, the power of one mans will that took 150,000 words to tell, into a paragraph? I cannot do that. Maybe there are people who can, or maybe, just maybe, it cannot be done. Maybe even those who believe they can do it, really cannot. Or maybe, as Joshua said, "I'm too filled with it all, Jessica, too filled with too much to be stupid enough to try and convince you, here, right now, tonight, why you should feel the way I believe you should feel. I'm too scared, too angry and too tired. Maybe tomorrow I might be willing to try it. But I hope not. Because I know it can't be done. I know that if you're really alive, really living, then the best you can do is thrash around, say stupid things, and in the end, beg to be believed, and I have always been very bad at begging. Dad taught me how to be bad at begging, and I’m glad he did.”