But That Isn't My Life. I Have

The Book Was In Her Lap; She Had Read No Further. The Power To Change One’s Life Comes From A Paragraph, A Lone Remark. The Lines That Penetrate Us Are Slender, Like The Flukes That Live In River Water And Enter The Bodies Of Swimmers. She Was Excited, Filled With Strength. The Polished Sentences Had Arrived, It Seemed, Like So Many Other Things, At Just The Right Time. How Can We Imagine What Our Lives Should Be Without The Illumination Of The Lives Of Others?

If You Write Enough, You Begin To Learn To Do Things. But In A Way, You Do Start From Zero Each Time.

I'm A Frotteur, Someone Who Likes To Rub Words In His Hand, To Turn Them Around And Feel Them, To Wonder If That Really Is The Best Word Possible.

You Lived And Died Alone, Especially In Fighters. Fighters. Somehow, Despite Everything, That Word Had Not Become Sterile. You Slipped Into The Hollow Cockpit And Strapped And Plugged Yourself Into The Machine. The Canopy Ground Shut And Sealed You Off. Your Oxygen, Your Very Breath, You Carried Into The Chilled Vacuum, In A Steel Bottle.

You’re So American. You Believe Everything Is Possible, Everything Will Come. I Know Differently.