Years later he'd stood in the charred ruins of a library where blackened books lay in pools of water. Shelves tipped over. Some rage at the lies arranged in their thousands row on row. He picked up one of the books and thumbed through the heavy bloated pages. He'd not have thought the value of the smallest thing predicated on a world to come. It surprised him. That the space which these things occupied was itself an expectation.

I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didn't. I don't blame him. If I was him I'd have the same opinion about me that he does.

If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe the thing to do is to always expect it.

I think that when the lies are all told and forgot the truth will be there yet. It dont move about from place to place and it dont change from time to time. You cant corrupt it any more than you can salt salt.

Do you have any notion of how goddamned crazy you are?

It starts when you begin to overlook good manners. Any time you quit hearing Sir and Mam the end is pretty much in sight.

This country will kill you in a heartbeat and still people love it.