I'm weary of the battle. But a tired fighter can still be a fighter.
It's amazing that the heart makes no noise when it cracks.
A terrific sadness swept over Jerry. As if somebody had died. The way he felt standing in the cemetry that day they buried his mother. And nothing you could do about it.
Cities fell. Earth opened. Planets tilted. Stars plummeted. And the awful silence.
I have lived a thousand lives lost within the pages of a book.
Why did the wise guys always accuse other people of being wise guys?