There Wasn't A Lot Of Bullshit In

And In A Small House Five Miles Away Was A Man Who Held My Mud-encrusted Charm Bracelet Out To His Wife. Look What I Found At The Old Industrial Park," He Said. "a Construction Guy Said They Were Bulldozing The Whole Lot. They're Afraid Of Sink Holes Like That One That Swallowed The Cars." His Wife Poured Him Some Water From The Sink As He Fingered The Tiny Bike And The Ballet Shoe, The Flower Basket And The Thimble. He Held Out The Muddy Bracelet As She Set Down His Glass. This Little Girl's Grown Up By Now," She Said. Almost. Not Quite. I Wish You All A Long And Happy Life.

There Was Our Father, The Heart We Knew Held All Of Us. Held Us Heavily And Desperately, The Doors Of His Heart Opening And Closing With The Rapidity Of Stops On An Instrument, The Quiet Felt Closures, The Ghostly Fingering, Practice And Practice And Then, Incredibly, Sound And Melody And Warmth.

Murderers Are Not Monsters, They're Men. And That's The Most Frightening Thing About Them.

One Thing About Failing Repeatedly: If You're Still Doing It After You've Failed That Much, You Really Mean It.

I Would Do Exactly What You Are Doing: I Would Talk To Everyone I Needed To, I Would Not Tell Too Many People His Name. When I Was Sure," She Said, "i Would Find A Quiet Way, And I Would Kill Him.