Oh. To be filled with goodness then shattered by goodness, so beautifully mosaically fragmented by such shocking goodness.

There is a kind of poetry, bad and good, in evrything, everywhere we look.

Stella Duffy is a writer who never lets you down.

It is important to know the stories and histories of things, even if all we know is that we don't know.

Happy is what you realize you are a fraction of a second before it's too late.

What shop did this book come from? she asked. Her father was looking worried at the cooker. He always got rice wrong. I don't know, Brooksie, he said, I don't remember. That was unimaginable, not remembering where a book has come from! and where it was bought from! That was part of the whole history, the whole point, of any book that you owned! And when you picked it up later in the house at home, you knew, you just knew by looking and having it in your hand, where it came from and where you got it and when and why you'd decided to buy it.

We're well past the end of the century when time, for the first time, curved, bent, slipped, flash forwarded, and flashed back yet still kept rolling along. We know it all now, with our thoughts traveling at the speed of a tweet, our 140 characters in search of a paragraph. We're post-history. We're post-mystery.