Between The Wish And The Thing The

She Was Gone And The Coldness Of It Was Her Final Gift.

I Don't Know Why I Started Writing. I Don't Know Why Anybody Does It. Maybe They're Bored, Or Failures At Something Else.

To See God Everywhere Is To See Him Nowhere.

Notions Of Chance And Fate Are The Preoccupations Of Men Engaged In Rash Undertakings.

Looking Over The Country With Those Sunken Eyes As If The World Out There Had Been Altered Or Made Suspect By What He'd Seen Of It Elsewhere. As If He Might Never See It Right Again. Or Worse Did See It Right At Last. See It As It Had Always Been, Would Forever Be.