Any time you're throwin dirt you're losin ground.

People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they don't deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things.

And perhaps beyond those shrouded swells another man did walk with another child on the dead gray sands. Slept but a sea apart on another beach among the bitter ashes of the world or stood in their rags lost to the same indifferent sun.

Ah me, thou Destiny, Giver of evil gifts.

If you break little promises, you'll break big ones.

Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.

He rose and turned toward the lights of town. The tidepools bright as smelterpots among the dark rocks where the phosphorescent seacrabs clambered back. Passing through the salt grass he looked back. The horse had not moved. A ship's light winked in the swells. The colt stood against the horse with its head down and the horse was watching, out there past men's knowing, where the stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.