Irritation for some men was their response to strain.

Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.

Words were power, words tried to change you, to shape bridges of longing that no one could ever really cross.

The world could bring you poison in a jewelled cup, or surprising gifts. Sometimes you didn't know which of them it was.

But if you couldn't do everything, did that mean you did nothing?

You'd never killed anyone. Then you had.

Why did becoming accustomed to something have to render its pleasures stale.