We Were Supposed To Grow Old Together,

Maybe There Are Some Things We Were Put On This Earth Not To Know.

What Molds Us Is What Maims Us.

I Held Her, He Wanted To Say, And If I Knew For Certain That All It Would Take To Hold Her Again Would Be To Die, Then I Couldn't Raise The Gun To My Head Fast Enough.

I Can't Remember Coming Across A More Precise Evocation Of Innocence Lost Since Golding's The Lord Of The Flies. With The Death Of Sweet Mister, Daniel Woodrell Has Written His Masterpiece-spare, Dark, And Incandescently Beautiful. It Broke My Heart.

I Believe In God. Maybe Not The Catholic God Or Even The Christian One Because I Have A Hard Time Seeing Any God As Elitist. I Also Have A Hard Time Believing That Anything That Created Rain Forests And Oceans And An Infinite Universe Would, In The Same Process, Create Something As Unnatural As Humanity In Its Own Image. I Believe In God, But Not As A He Or She Or An It, But As Something That Defines My Ability To Conceptualize Within The Rather Paltry Frames Of Reference I Have On Hand.