When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
—John Keats, "When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be."
Having lost its storyteller, the tale is now wandering in search of its conclusion
Yahtzee: Well, here's the thing: John Romero, for all his faults, was an ideas man. When John Romero was with the rest of Id, they were like Lennon and McCartney; they did their best work together 'cause he had the big ideas: in Quake 1, all that story business — all that Lovecratian shit that I was quite fond of — that was all him. The moment he leaves Id, it just turns into a fucking tech demo. Most nondescript plot in the history of anything. Aliens are fighting you and everything's gone brown.
Gabriel: Bad. You good. Shoot.
"I was with this good friend of mine when we heard (Stephen King) got popped. Man, we just started shaking our heads and saying, 'There goes the Tower, it's tilting, it's falling — aw, shit, he'll never finish it now.'"
"N.B. While working on this fugue, where the name B.A.C.H. appears in the countersubject, the composer died."
— note by C.P.E. Bach in the autograph of The Art of the Fugue
"After all, as some of you like to point out in your emails, I am sixty years old and fat, and you don't want me to 'pull a Robert Jordan' on you and deny you your book."