Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.

This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job.

Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

Nothin wounded goes uphill, he said. It just dont happen.

I guess you ought to be careful about cussin the dead. I would say at the least there probably ain't no luck in it.

In the end we all come to be cured of our sentiments. Those whom life does not cure death will. The world is quite ruthless in selecting between the dream and reality, even where we will not. Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting. I've thought a great deal about my life and my country. I think there is little that can be truly known. My family has been fortunate. Others were less so. As they are often quick to point out.

Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.