Storms Probably Exist Only Because After Them

Gathering Is Peculiar, Because You See Nothing But What You're Looking For. If You're Picking Raspberries, You See Only What's Red, And If You're Looking For Bones You See Only The White. No Matter Where You Go, The Only Thing You See Is Bones.

... 'i've Been Doing Everything For An Awfully Long Time, And I've Seen And Lived As Hard As I Could, And It's Been Unbelievable, I Tell You, Unbelievable. But Now I Have The Feeling Everything's Gliding Away From Me, And I Don't Remember, And I Don't Care, And Yet Now Is Right When I Need It!'. [pp. 84-85]

Lie On The Bridge And Watch The Water Flowing Past. Or Run, Or Wade Through The Swamp In Your Red Boots. Or Roll Yourself Up And Listen To The Rain Falling On The Roof. It's Very Easy To Enjoy Yourself.

It Is Still Summer, But The Summer Is No Longer Alive. It Has Come To A Standstill; Nothing Withers, And Fall Is Not Ready To Begin. There Are No Stars Yet, Just Darkness.

Now Everything Was Changed. She Walked About With Cautious, Anxious Steps, Staring Constantly At The Ground, On The Lookout For Things That Crept And Crawled. Bushes Were Dangerous, And So Were Sea Grass And Rain Water. There Were Little Animals Everywhere. They Could Turn Up Between The Covers Of A Book, Flattened And Dead, For The Fact Is That Creeping Animals, Tattered Animals, And Dead Animals Are With Us All Our Lives, From Beginning To End. Grandmother Tried To Discuss This With Her, To No Avail. Irrational Terror Is So Hard To Deal With.