I learned, as the raft moved and I slid through the day, as the day slid through me, to let the task be master: which is only not to choose to do any… - John Crowley

Once arrived in the City, he dispersed utterly and gratefully in it like a raindrop fallen into the sea.

Prosper Olander had never been in a cathedral, but now he felt something like that, the experience of entering suddenly a space so large, so devoted to a single purpose, that the insides of the heart are drawn for a moment outward and into it, trying to fill it, and failing.

Stories inside, each one nested within all the others; as though all the stories we had ever been inside of lay still nested inside of us, back to the beginning, whenever that is or was. Stories are what the history not made of time is made of. Funny,