But the adjectives change,” said Jimmy. “Nothing’s worse than last year’s adjectives.

Canadians are fond of a good disaster, especially if it has ice, water, or snow in it. You thought the national flag was about a leaf, didn't you? Look harder. It's where someone got axed in the snow.

Sons branch out, but one woman leads to another.

Once upon a time, novelists of the 19th century, such as Charles Dickens, published in serial form.

I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.

As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes.

No one knows what cuases an outer landscape to become an inner one.