It's Always Been Hard For Me To

It Never Takes Longer Than A Few Minutes, When They Get Together, For Everyone To Revert To The State Of Nature, Like A Party Marooned By A Shipwreck. That's What A Family Is. Also The Storm At Sea, The Ship, And The Unknown Shore. And The Hats And The Whiskey Stills That You Make Out Of Bamboo And Coconuts. And The Fire That You Light To Keep Away The Beasts.

It Was The Kind Of Promise A Father Makes Easily And Sincerely, Knowing At The Same Time That It Will Be Impossible To Keep. The Truth Of Some Promises Is Not As Important As Whether Or Not You Can Believe In Them, With All Your Heart. A Game Of Baseball Can't Really Make A Summer Day Last Forever. A Home Run Can't Really Heal All The Broken Places In Our World, Or In A Single Human Heart. And There Was No Way That Mr. Feld Could Keep His Promise Never To Leave Ethan Again. All Parents Leave Their Children One Day.

Bina, Thank You. Bina, Listen, This Guy. His Name Wasn't Lasker. This Guy-' She Puts A Hand To His Mouth. She Has Not Touched Him In Three Years. It Probably Would Be Too Much To Say That He Feels The Darkness Lift At The Touch Of Her Fingertips Against His Lips. But It Shivers, And Light Bleeds In Among The Cracks.

All Literature, Highbrow Or Low, From The Aeneid Onward, Is Fan Fiction....through Parody And Pastiche, Allusion And Homage, Retelling And Reimagining The Stories That Were Told Before Us And That We Have Come Of Age Loving--amateurs--we Proceed, Seeking Out The Blank Places In The Map That Our Favorite Writers, In Their Greatness And Negligence, Have Left For Us, Hoping To Pass On To Our Own Readers--should We Be Lucky Enough To Find Any--some Of The Pleasure That We Ourselves Have Taken In The Stuff That We Love: To Get In On The Game. All Novels Are Sequels; Influence Is Bliss.

His Dreams Had Always Been Houdiniesque: They Were The Dreams Of A Pupa Struggling In Its Blind Cocoon, Mad For A Taste Of Light And Air.