Life every now and then becomes literature [...] long enough to be what we best remember, and often enough so that what we eventually come to mean by… - Norman Maclean

...life every now and then becomes literature...as if life had been made and not happened.

What a beautiful world it was once. At least a river of it was.

"You like to tell true stories, don't you?" my father asked, and I answered, "Yes, I like to tell stories that are true."

Then he asked, "After you have finished your true stories sometime, why don't you make up. story and the people to go with it? Only then will you understand what happened and why. It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us."

Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.

She was never to ask me a question about the man she loved most and understood least. Perhaps she knew enough to know that for her it was enough to have loved him.