My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for the sun to show.

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"The world must be all fucked up," he said then, "when men travel first class and literature goes as freight."

In the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are.

"Let me stay here," he said. "There was soap."

It was the time when they loved each other best, without hurry or excess, when both were most conscious of and grateful for their incredible victories over adversity. Life would still present them with other mortal trails, of course, but that no longer mattered: they were on the other shore.