The sweet accident of coincidence is the best foundation on which to build.
That's the real power of art, I think. Not to chide but to provoke challenge. Otherwise why bother?
No, she wasn't losing language. She was choking on it.
Where I'm from, we believe in all sorts of things that aren't true... we call it history.
The storm dropped a house on her head.
Immortality is a chancy thing; it cannot be promised or earned. Perhaps it cannot even be identified for what it is.