The world shrieks and sinks talons into our hearts. This we call memory.
Once someone's dead you can't make them undead.
If you don't care for obscenity, you don't care for the truth.
They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried.
Life is never all one thing. It bounces around. Certainly, my own life has.
It's not just the embarrassment of tears. That's part of it, no doubt, but what embarrasses me much more, and always will, is the paralysis that took my heart. A moral freeze: I couldn't decide, I couldn't act, I couldn't comport myself with even a pretense of modest human dignity.