It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.

It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.

No praise, no blame. Just so.

I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.

Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.

Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?

I can’t seem to make myself care about anything to the right or left of the present.