When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

There's no accounting for laws. Or the changes wrought by men and time.

I had done either too much coke or too little, a constant problem in my life.

Youth endures all things, kings and poetry and love. Everything but time.

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

Consideration touches more deeply and longer than passion.

Home is where you hang your hangover.