The poetry, if you will, of life is reduced to this sort of dry, scientific, you know, it's the worst sort of précis of who we are.

Seems like the cold would never go away and winter would be like the bottom of my feet but then it is gone in one night and in its place comes the sun so large and laughable.

Pain is never added to pain. It multiplies.

Somebody dies and people eat your food. Funny how that works.

My wife was the first romantic partner who understood both American and native parts of me - not so much the positive stuff, but the damage.

I've come to the point in my life where I encourage young Native Americans to become much more selfish about their personal needs and wants.

The librarian spoke in a reverential whisper. Corliss knew she'd misjudged this passionate woman. Maybe she dressed poorly, but she was probably great in bed, certainly believed in God and goodness, and kept an illicit collection of overdue library books on her shelves.