Any Piece Of Good Music Is In

It Was One Of Those Strange Moments That Came To Him Rarely, But Never Left. A Moment That Stamped Itself On Heart And Brain, Instantly Recallable In Every Detail, For All Of His Life. There Was No Telling What Made These Moments Different From Any Other, Though He Knew Them When They Came. He Had Seen Sights More Gruesome And More Beautiful By Far, And Been Left With No More Than A Fleeting Muddle Of Their Memory. But These-- The Still Moments, As He Called Them To Himself-- They Came With No Warning, To Print A Random Image Of The Most Common Things Inside His Brain, Indelible.

One Dictum I Had Learned On The Battlefields Of France In A Far Distant War: You Cannot Save The World, But You Might Save The Man In Front Of You, If You Work Fast Enough.

This Was Nonsense, He Thought. The Need Of Her Was A Physical Thing, Like The Thirsty Of A Sailor Becalmed For Weeks On The Sea. He'd Felt The Need Before, Often, Often, In Their Years Apart. But Why Now? She Was Safe; He Knew Where She Was - Was It Only The Exhaustion Of The Past Weeks And Days, Or Perhaps The Weakness Of Creeping Age That Made His Bones Ache, As Though She Had In Fact Been Torn From His Body, As God Had Made Eve From Adam's Rib?

Men Go Where They Will, They Do As They Must; It Is Not A Woman's Part To Bid Them To Stay, Nor Yet To Reproach Them For Being What They Are-or For Not Coming Back.

Perhaps It Was Only That The Sense Of Reaching Out To Something Larger Than Yourself Gives You Some Feeling That There Is Something Larger - And There Really Has To Be, Because Plainly You Aren't Sufficient To The Situation.