once we began to chime the hour, we lost the ability to be satisfied
Things change when you're not in danger anymore.
Mothers support certain illusions about their children, and one of my illusions was that I liked who I was, because she did. When she passed away, so did that idea.
This is how you start to get respect, by offering something that you have.
When you are an outcast, even a tossed stone can be cherished.
Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.