Our worst pain is confined within our own skin.

That's just pain she said. It goes eventually. And when it's gone, there's no lasting memory. Not the worst of it anyway. It fades. Our minds aren't made to hold on to the particulars of pain the way we do bliss. It's a gift God gives us, a sign of His care for us.

Verbs. All of them tiring.

There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred.

Surely it is a sin to reject the few gifts we are given. Be happy in the flash of time granted to us or hurt forever.

The past is a stronger influence in the South. But I think everywhere you have this sense that the world changes faster than you can accommodate yourself to. Looking back and seeing how you got where you are is a useful way to combat disorientation.

My opinion was that if hogs are biting you so often that you have to stop and make up a specific word for it, maybe lack of vocabulary is not your most pressing problem.