“ultimately,” he said, holding the cigarette between his first two fingers and gesturing, “it’s a question of will. not truth.”
he flicked the ashes and drew another drag. “you can’t get it. but you can stick it out, you can choose to face whatever it is, and live with what comes out of it.”
“besides,” he leans back, “this is something you’ve known all along. it’s, what do you call it? your mantra, your way of life.”