But even in the schoolyard I'd been aware of that silence, that reserve in him, as though he'd been raised by foxes and language was his second language.

Wisdom never learned silence, and it is most annoying when least wanted.

But even in the schoolyard I'd been aware of that silence, that reserve in him, as though he'd been raised by foxes and language was his second language.

The moon grew full, then slowly pared itself down until it shriveled into a ghostly boat riding above the roiling dark. Then it fell out of the sky. They climbed into it, left land behind, and floated out to sea.

Then you will have to trust me. Beyond logic, beyond reason, beyond hope, trust me.

Imagination is the golden-eyed monster that never sleeps. It must be fed; it cannot be ignored.

...that once were urgent and necessary for an orderly world and now were buried away, gathering dust and of no use to anyone.