Doomed enterprises divide lives forever into the then and now

For the poor any choice was a gift with two faces.

He sat a long time and he thought about his life and how little of it he could ever have foreseen and he wondered for all his will and all his intent how much of it was his doing.

When the lies are all told and forgot the truth will be their yet.

They sat on a bench and Sproule held his wounded arm to his chest and rocked back and forth and blinked in the sun. What do you want to do? said the kid. Get a drink of water. Other than that. I dont know. You want to try and head back? To Texas? I don't know where else. We'd never make it. Well you say. I aint got no say. He was coughing again. He held his chest with his good hand and sat as if he'd get his breath. What have you got, a cold? I got consumption. Consumption? He nodded. I come out here for my health.

Creedless shells of men tottering down the causeways like migrants in a feverland.

Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from.