Each Memory Recalled Must Do Some Violence

They Spoke Less And Less Between Them Until At Last They Were Silent Altogether As Is Often The Way With Travelers Approaching The End Of A Journey.

There Is No Such Joy In The Tavern As Upon The Road Thereto.

Suppose You Were The Last One Left? Suppose You Did That To Yourself?

By Day The Banished Sun Circles The Earth Like A Grieving Mother With A Lamp.

Dying Ain't In People's Plans, Is It?