Wordplay hides a key to reality that the dictionary tries in vain to lock inside every free word.
Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.
Memory weaves and traps us at the same time according to a scheme in which we do not participate: we should never speak of our memory, for it is anything but ours; it works on its own terms, it assists us while deceiving us or perhaps deceives up to assist us.
The novel wins by points, the short story by knockout.
Time is born in the eyes, everybody knows that.
Salt and the center of the world have to be there, in that spot on the tablecloth.