Though I was careful never to mention it, I began to see a new dimension in everything that happened.

Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser.

When you push a car off a cliff and blow it up, be sure to roll the windows down to avoid shrapnel. Also, strip the license plate so you're not billed for the cleanup.

Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.

I think you either have to have a very strong decisive person at the top or else a really brilliant staff command.

Reality itself is too twisted.

It was a maddening image and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum.