But something held me back. Perhaps I was stopped by that level of feeling, deeper than thought, which contains the truth.

Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.

Sarcasm is the protest of the weak.

Life is fighting. In life, it's the look ahead that counts. We are all born equally far from the sun. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love.

But I was used to finding something deadly in things that attracted me; there was always something deadly lurking in anything I wanted, anything I loved.

We are all born equally far from the sun.

I did no know everything there was to know about myself, and knew that I did not know it.