The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.
I fear your faith has been mis- placedโbut then, faith usually is.
We were just looking at ideas of each other.
There's no way of knowing that your last good day is Your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day.
Pudge, my friend, we are indefuckingstructible.
It was kind of a beautiful day, finally real summer in Indianapolis, warm and humid - the kind of weather that reminds you after a long winter that while the world wasn't built for humans, we were built for the world.