My, my. A body does get around.
And we'd sit in the dry leaves that whispered a little with the slow respiration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of the earth and the windless october, the rank smell of the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dog and the echo of louis' voice dying away
What a writer's obituary should read - he wrote the books, then he died.
I'm inclined to think that a military background wouldn't hurt anyone.
War and drink are the two things man is never too poor to buy.
To me, all human behavior is unpredictable and, considering man's frailty... and... the ramshackle universe he functions in, it's... all irrational.