In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many of them you can get through, but rather how many can get through to you.
Back in 1835, when Halley’s Comet was overhead, same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter. A man like us, only on horseback. Story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him… Somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say… they say this gun can kill anything.