He doesn't think. He just does. A nonthinking doer.

This was the start of a period that blurs as I try to recall it. Incidents seem to cascade and merge. Events become feelings, fellings become events. Head and heart are contrary historians.

I'm that way, goofy as it sounds. Sometimes I don't want things to happen-I'm talking about good things, even wonderful things-because once they happen, I can't look forward to them anymore. But there's an upside, too. Once a wonderful thing is over, I'm not all that sad because then I can start thinking about it, reliving and reliving it in the virtual world in my head.

In our minds we tried to pin her to a corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew

We live in a silent explosion, Everything is flying away from everything else... flying away... flying away...

A baseball bat could not have hit me harder than that smile did. I was sixteen years old. In that time, how many thousands of smiles had been aimed at me? so why did this one feel like the first?

You are truly focused when you're so focused that you don't know you're focused.