realize　how　far　back　I'd　have　to　go　in　order　to　tell　you　about　John　Coffey；　or　how　long　I'd　have　to　leave　him　there　in　his　cell；　a　man　so　huge　his　feet　didn't　just　stick　off　the　end　of　his　bunk　but　hung　down　all　the　way　to　the　floor。　I　don't　want　you　to　forget　him；　all　right？　I　want　you　to　see　him　there；　looking　up　at　the　ceiling　of　his　cell；　weeping　his　silent　tears；　or　putting　his　arms　over　his　face。　I　want　you　to　hear　him；　his　sighs　that　trembled　like　sobs；　his　occasional　watery　groan。　These　weren't　the　sounds　of　agony　and　regret　we　sometimes　heard　on　E　Block；　sharp　cries　with　splinters　of　remorse　in　them；　like　his　wet　eyes；　they　were　somehow　removed　from　the　pain　we　were　used　to　dealing　with。　In　a　way　…　I　know　how　crazy　this　will　sound；　of　course　I　do；　but　there　is　no　sense　in　writing　something　as　long　as　this　if　you　can't　say　what　feels　true　to　your　heart　…　in　a　way　it　was　as　if　it　was　sorrow　for　the　whole　world　he　felt；　something　too　big　ever　to　be　pletely　eased。　Sometimes　I　sat　and　talked　to　him；　as　I　did　with　all　of　them　…　talking　was　our　biggest；　most　important　job；　as　I　believe　I　have　said　…　and　I　tried　to　fort　him。　I　don't　feel　that　I　ever　did；　and　part　of　my　heart　was　glad　he　was　suffering；　you　know。　Felt　he　deserved　to　suffer。　I　even　thought　sometimes　of　calling　the　governor　（or　getting　Percy　to　do　it　…　hell；　he　was　Percy's　damn　uncle；　not　mine）　and　asking　for　a　stay　of　execution。　We　shouldn't　burn　him　yet；　I'd　say　It's　still　hurting　him　too　much；　biting　into　him