Christ rose so long ago but the air he rose through hasn't forgotten the slight red contrail from the wounds. - Jim Harrison

His wife held him and they sat there an hour vomiting up their souls, saying everything that was possible to say about their multiple faults that had kept them apart. Finally they made love to the obnoxious music of mosquitoes on the wooden floor of the porch.

Maybe a single life doesn't amount to much but perhaps it should at least drift toward the common good.

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness. And they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy... or they become legend.