It's As If I've Arrived In A

Old As He Was, He Still Missed His Daddy Sometimes.

One Should Be Able To Return To The First Sentence Of A Novel And Find The Resonances Of The Entire Work.

A Myth Is More Powerful - And More Lasting - Than Reality.

She Could Walk Through A Lightning Storm Without Being Touched; Grab A Bolt Of Lightning In The Palm Of Her Hand; Use The Heat Of Lightning To Start The Kindling Going Under Her Medicine Pot. She Turned The Moon Into Salve, The Stars Into Swaddling Cloth, And Healed The Wounds Of Every Creature Walking Up On Two Or Down On Four.

Time's Passage Through The Memory Is Like Molten Glass That Can Be Opaque Or Crystalize At Any Given Moment At Will: A Thousand Days Are Melted Into One Conversation, One Glance, One Hurt, And One Hurt Can Be Shattered And Sprinkled Over A Thousand Days. It Is Silent And Elusive, Refusing To Be Damned And Dripped Out Day By Day; It Swirls Through The Mind While An Entire Lifetime Can Ride Like Foam On The Deceptive, Transparent Waves And Get Sprayed Onto The Conciousness At Ragged, Unexpected Intervals.